Schneeflocke
by Sarastro the Queen o the Night
Summary: Jack Frost had been alone and suffering mental imbalances just over one hundred years before Pitch Black took him in. The king of nightmares wasn't known for his overwhelming kindness, but to Jack, he had become his only caretaker. He had become safety and home, protector from the cruel moon.
1. Rest Cure

**A/N: **So this has been muddling about in my brain since I saw the film. Because isolation can't be good for anyone and 1816 was the Year without Summer. Mix these with the production of "The Yellow Wallpaper" that I'm in as well as the visions of Hildegard von Bingen and you've got this nonsense.**  
**

I don't own anything, I just like to pretend.

* * *

_Moonlight. Moonlight is struggling through the crack far, far above me (placed there so my room would be the sunniest and most comfortable for me). It's trying to reach me, trying to caress my cheek._

_I hate it. I hate it so much. The moon had told me my name and left me alone for a hundred years. I've seen so much pain and unhappiness…I cannot imagine what I would do if I had not met Pitch Black._

_Pitch is my savior, no other way around it. Pitch, who found me crying from distress of the past ages of being walked through and ignored, Pitch, who knew everything there was to know about healing me, Pitch, who had taken me in for the sole purpose of helping me._

_That brings me to the situation I am in now. He has told me that modern medicine has developed a cure that has saved many of those with the same condition I have. Pitch tells me that it is "mild hysterical tendencies" or the like. So he's giving me tonics and phosphates and he's suggested widening the crack to give me as much air as he can without letting his enemies find and hurt me. Air will help, he says. And I have been forbidden all work until I recover._

_I am writing this in secret._

_Personally (and I would never say this to any living soul, whether they could see me or not, but you are a great comfort to me and perhaps that is why I don't get well faster), personally I disagree with some of his methods. Sometimes, in my condition, I think that stimulation and congenial work would do me good! But Pitch says that thinking about my condition is one of the worst things I can do, and I admit it always does make me feel poorly. So I will let it alone._

* * *

Stashing the papers and the pencil he had stolen the last time he had squeezed out through the crack at the top of his room, since then made smaller by Pitch for Jack's own safety, Jack returned to his bed, and lay there, staring up at the softly shining glow. For Jack Frost suffered hysteria with slight depression (Pitch had declared it so after inspecting the boy's behavior and physical state) and the only cure was that which Pitch swore up and down to be proven by many doctors. A cure of total rest.

They had tried so much to help him, from vigorous exercise to electricity (Jack had to beg to try this one, Pitch seemed worried that it would hurt him). But this was being proven and Pitch assured the child that it would cure him. Settling into the bed, he closed his eyes and fell to sleep, waking only when the Bogeyman knocked gently at the door. Jack's eyes opened at the sound of the door creaking open, slowly (for Pitch's nature was to do things in the way that would make a child fearful).

"Good morning," greeted Pitch. "Do you notice anything different?" Jack looked around, but could not determine any difference to the room, still made of stone and shadow, though less than anywhere else. And finally he looked up.

"The crack is larger!" he said, proud of himself for finding that.

"Yes it is. Your room must be the sunniest and airiest for you to be well again. But Jack, I must ask you, can I trust you with this?" Jack looked down, ashamed of his flight away. "You worried me greatly, Jack. You cannot fly away if you want to get well. I am making it larger in hopes that it will help you, but if you are so dead set against what will help you, then I do not know what to do."

"I'll stay, Pitch. I want to get well. I'll stay here, I swear it," muttered Jack, his hands tugging at the bottom of his tailcoat. Pitch had done his best to keep Jack aware of the standings of the outside world, and he had stolen the waistcoat from a wealthy boy's wardrobe, and though fashions had moved on entirely, Jack insisted that since the tailcoat was not worn overmuch, he would wear it.

"You're a very sick boy, you must do all that you can to grow well again."

"I know." And there was a long moment of silence before Pitch sighed, going to the boy and sitting beside him, drawing him into an embrace.

"I do care about you," he said softly. "When I found you, you were much worse than you are now."

"I feel like there is something strange about my room now. A tremor of some sort. Can you feel it?"

"It's just a draft, Jack. You aren't used to the wider crack yet. It will pass." With a gentle squeeze, Pitch pulled away, leaving Jack to his rest.

* * *

_I get unreasonably upset with Pitch sometimes. I was never this sensitive before. I think it may have to do with my condition, or was triggered by treatment. But Pitch says that if I feel so sensitive, I shall neglect proper self control. So I try so hard to control myself and I grow so tired._

_I will confess it, much as I don't want to. I don't like my room one bit. When I came to live with Pitch (however long ago that is, it's rather difficult to keep track), I was hoping for one nearer the sky, one that opened into my little hollow and lake, with pine trees all around and pretty bushes that grow with red stems. But Pitch wouldn't hear of it. He said that it was a wish that would only hurt as he couldn't fulfill it._

_Since then I do not tell Pitch of quite a few things. I don't tell him of my visions. Last evening, as the moonlight poured in and tried to touch me (as if I would welcome it). I saw something so magnificent, I can barely describe. A person so peaceful I can only imagine that they do not have the condition I do nor do they worry for someone like me as Pitch does. This person, so peaceful, went out from the sunset and held back the darkness. This person, knowing all to know of darkness, was bright and went forth unafraid. This person spoke with human language though not a word was said._

* * *

Jack's hiding place for his forbidden notebook changed nearly every day, oftentimes up by the crack that he, on days when he thought that Pitch's methods were hurting more than helping, would reach through to touch the wind above, the wind that passed through his fingers as if carrying a secret message. That day, however, the notebook was simply tucked within his bed, under the mattress of ice.

Jack stared up at the wider crack. It let in more moonlight now. The sun and the air was what would help him, but the moon was able to get in just as easily, it seemed. The moon had been nothing but a source of vexation for poor Jack. The moon cast these horrible shadows, a thousand times worse than shadows cast by the sun or even the shadows that Pitch could manipulate. The shadows the moon cast held none of the warmth of a sun-shadow and none of the security of Pitch's.

Moon shadows seemed to have a pattern, but only barely. Jack would spend time trying to follow it, trying to see what the moon was trying to tell him. But there was no pattern. Only just enough that he could start following it and then it lost its pattern and it was enough to work Jack into such a state of upset that Pitch had spent quite some time holding the boy as he cried, teaching him ways to calm himself.

He took a deep breath. Pitch had told him that the best thing to do when he felt agitated or distressed was to think of a happy or calming thing. Anything that would upset him would do nothing but harm him further.

"It was seventeen…uh…seventeen fifty-fifty four. There was a boy, he was…he couldn't have been more than twelve. We played together for ages. It was in Germany, down by the mountains. It was…It was hours and hours. Sledding, snowballs, it was one of the best times I'd ever had."

He did feel calmer, a little bit, remembering how that little boy had shrieked with laughter as he and his friends threw balls of snow at each other. That little boy was long dead now, but he wasn't thinking about that. Just the one day. Just those hours playing in the snow.

The knocking on the door was welcome, and Jack looked up to find Pitch. Pitch looked concerned, and approached, saying, "I heard you talking to yourself."

"I was doing what you taught me to do. When I get upset about the shadows. A happy thought." Pitch smiled, a smile that was equal parts forced and real. It always was, but to Jack it was enough, because it was directed at him and it was the smile of someone who cared.

"Very good, Jack. You have been using your techniques and I'm proud of you for that. But now, we have a therapy session." The boy nodded, sitting up straight in his bed, tucking his feet under him, watching as Pitch sat in the chair across from his bed (sometimes Jack sat there if he wanted to feel braver or stronger). "We'll look at your experiences from the end of the eighteenth and beginning of the nineteenth centuries."

"I would have been…"

"I found you when you were one hundred and two…"

"I would have been ninety something then."

"Yes, you would have been. I found you shrieking in a snowdrift. What around that time could have helped triggered it? Did you witness anything? Did you do something?"

"I…There…there was a girl. It was just around the first frost. She was to meet her friend and a man at a party. He grabbed her and kissed her even when she didn't want him to."

"How did this affect _you_, Jack?"

"I wanted to help her but I couldn't. And I just felt so _helpless_ that when I tried to pull him away, my hands just went through him."

"And you say she didn't want it to happen at all?"

"No."

"How old was she?"

"I don't know, maybe fourteen at most?"

"Ah. Jack, our kind revolves around children. Seeing a girl so abused would have hurt you deeply. We do not like to see children in pain or—"

"But you frighten them!" And then his hands clapped over his mouth. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"I think we may just be done for the day if you will speak like that."

"I'm sorry, Pitch. I'm…I'm so sorry. Please, I just…"

"Jack, our positions are very complex. You bring winter but you have a deep aversion and fear of freezing people."

"Yes."

"I frighten children. That does _not_ mean I hurt them. Fear makes a child grow wisely. Wonder, hope, dreams…do you know what those things do to children?"

"They do bad things."

"Precision of language, Jack."

"They…they keep children from being prepared for anything. Wonder causes blindness, hope sets them up to be crushed and you always wake up from dreams."

"Exactly."

"Pitch?" his voice was small, and that drew the Bogeyman's attention better than anything else. "I…I was wondering. If…if the grown-up mortals have the same condition that I do, what's it like for them? Is it different from me?"

"Jack, you suffer from hysteria and depression. Hysteria, for either humans or yourself, manifests itself in the same ways. They grow to be just as thin and pale as you, and they don't eat much. They grow weary from nearly everything, and they grow to be very emotional." Jack nodded. "Is there anything else you wish to talk about?"

"Pitch, when will I be well again?"

"It's difficult to say. So long as you rest and don't work, you'll recover. Work gets in the way of your treatment, you remember."

"Yes."

"Just rest, Snowflake. Try and sleep." Pitch stood, and as he went to the door he said, "I'll bring you something to eat in a few hours. Sleep as much as you can."

And Jack was alone once more.

He tried to sleep, he really did, but then he felt himself almost drift away from his body, blinking rapidly to bring the world into focus. When it did, he did not see his room. There was a person before him. They were the most colorful thing he had seen since beginning to live with Pitch, but that didn't say much. They were peering out into the world, unnoticing of little Jack. Watching and staring, the crown upon their head began to shine every time they moved their head, very nearly blinding him. Then, then-then-then their mouth opened and a cry to the world was heard.

"Return! Return!"

With a rush Jack was back inside his own mind, back in the bed in the room. This time, he didn't waste time, fetching the notebook and beginning to scribble in it. He hated himself for doing this so soon after his therapy session, so soon after Pitch told him to sleep and that work (like flying up to the crack as he had always reminded) would do nothing but hinder his recovery. But he had to.

* * *

_I had another vision. This person was not the very peaceful person, but they were just as brilliant to see. Colors, the colors that do not exist in this realm, this world of shadow and the cracks that Pitch has given me. It was so difficult to look at them, they were so bright, nearly so bright as the very peaceful person I saw before. They cried out into the world, the world so large and now I find it to be a little frightening._

_There is one comfort in this—this confinement to bed and my treatment—the children are safe. Imagine if I had been out there with them! How could I be trusted around the lovely little things if I am caught in a fit of hysteria or have these visions? I would hurt them for certain! Perhaps I ought tell Pitch about these visions. Or at least that the moon is sending me those horrible shadows again. But he has been so patient and kind that I dare not. I feel so basely selfish for having not gotten better. Perhaps it is because I have withheld these things from him, perhaps it is because I insist to myself that writing is—_

_No I must rest, I must get better. I will only get worse if I think too much on this. Mental strain, Pitch tells me, is only harmful to those with my condition._

* * *

When Jack awoke, it was to the scent of lunch. Pitch was there, holding a tray with two plates on it. He would eat with him! Sitting up, Jack took the one that was passed to him, the elder sitting beside him. Silence reigned as he ate. Finally he turned to Jack and said, "Eat, Jack."

"The meat's not cooked," he said, not wanting to sound ungrateful for all the help he was receiving, but he did want to voice his concern.

"Yes it is. It's rare. It's good for you that way." Jack turned back to it and poked at it with his fork. And he began to giggle. "What's the matter?" He just kept laughing. "Jack, what are you laughing about?"

"Nothing! It's just…it's still bleeding!"

"It isn't _bleeding,_ Jack."

Jack put on a voice that was a good octave higher than his normal voice, saying as he waved the meat about, "Help me! Help me! They're going to kill me!"

"Quiet down. If you aren't going to eat, at least take your medicine." Jack pulled a face. He hated the Cod Liver Oil that Pitch insisted would help him. Still, he choked it down. Pitch handed him a glass of water which he gratefully drained. He fell very still, closing his eyes and resting a moment. "Jack?" He couldn't bring himself to respond. "Snowflake?"

It was the affectionate term that finally made Jack say something. "I don't…I don't want to be tired anymore."

"Jack please—"

"I don't!"

"I know. Please, you're unwell—"

"I'm better! I can hold up my head, talk! I don't—" He was visibly distressed, over what neither Jack nor Pitch knew.

"You aren't making a very good case for yourself!"

"I can't…hear…see…I-I-I…"

"_I order you to get well!_" The sudden shout threw Jack off guard, making him start, the meal falling to the ground.

"What?"

"_You must comply! Do you understand?! I order you to get well!_"

"I_ can't_!" he was becoming more and more distressed.

"_You must!_" Despite his age, Jack was very much a child. Faced with this sudden anger and hostility, he did what all children would. He began to cry. Curling into himself, he began to weep. Upon seeing him, Pitch let out a gentle noise one could almost call a coo. Wrapping the child in his arms, he pulled him close. "A strict demand to get well helped many in the past, to my understanding. I suppose it wasn't the correct course of action with you." Silence fell as Jack wept quietly into the man's chest.

Finally, Jack quieted, but he kept his grip on Pitch, not wanting him to go. He peered up at the crack and became aware that the moon was beginning to shine through. Pitch would likely leave so he could get some sleep, but he didn't want him to go.

"I see things in the shadows the moon casts," he whispered. At this, Pitch looked down at him, letting the boy climb into his lap to hide his face in Pitch's neck. "I hate it. The moonlight creeps so slowly. When I can't sleep I watch it and the shadows always start to move. It's like there are figures in the shadows. Not like with your shadows."

"The moon is trying to reach you. But you mustn't let him."

"Why not?"

"The moon, Snowflake, is not a kind soul. He will create for his amusement and disregard his creations."

"Is…is that what happened with me?" Jack was staring at Pitch now, eyes wide and frightened.

"I don't know, child. If you want, I could make the crack smaller again."

"No, no I like the sun and the air."

"If the moon is disturbing you…"

"I _want_ the crack to be like it is." Finally Pitch gave a smile (equal parts forced and real, it felt like home and love, now) and embraced him, one hand running over his white hair.

"Go to sleep, Jack. I'll bring you food if you promise to eat."

"I will."


	2. Energy and Hidden Places

_I am writing of a vision I had in the night. It was not a dream, it was too similar to my other visions, now long in the past. This was of a man, a man a thousand times the size of a mountain. He stood there in the redness of blood and the whiteness of paleness. He stood with the strength of those who have nothing to fear, the strength of one who knows himself to be master of that around him. I write of this man not according to my or anyone else's heart but as I heard and perceived in the heavens and through the hidden mysteries of the world. And again I heard a voice speaking from within me, saying, "Proclaim and write thus!"_

_This man of red and white, he began to speak to me. He spoke of time as the turning of a globe. To this man, time was to recognize that all journeys exist simultaneously, that to be in one place is not to deny the existence of another, even to recognize that it is not to deny the ability to be in another place at the same moment. This man spoke of how in this way it is possible to move forward and backward in the dream of time, though that to use those words is to make a tangle of the dream._

_In that moment I had such a desire to attempt it, to flit from place to place within the same moment as this man did, and yet I could not shake the dread that sank over me in the moment that I thought of such things. I do not wish to think of these things any longer._

_Pitch said that I seemed agitated and I told him that it was because he was so often gone now. He assured me he would return more frequently now, but his work was needed and there was no avoiding it, not now. I am not certain what it is that he is laboring on that calls such vigilance, but I do trust him._

* * *

"How are you feeling today?" asked Pitch, sitting in the chair that was always his, Jack sitting on the bed with his legs crossed, hands bending his toes back and forth.

"Fine."

"Cough? Sore throat? Headache?"

"Nope. Not today."

"Good. Now, recently you've said that the moon has been trying to reach you."

"Yes."

"How do you feel about it?"

"Don't like it."

"Precision of language, Jack."

"It upsets me."

"Did it upset you before you came here?"

"Yes. It made me and then ignored me. I hated it but I wanted to know _why_ it made me. Does that make sense?"

"I understand entirely. I find it to be very helpful."

"You do?"

"Yes. Given a little time I might know just how to help you based off of this." Jack smiled. He didn't like having to talk about some of his issues, but being told that it might be able to help him recover made him smile. "You seem restless today."

"Yes, and I don't know why." Pitch gave him a long regard before saying,

"Perhaps it would do you well to go for a short walk."

"A walk? But I thought…"

"A _short_ one. Your condition manifests itself with weariness, perhaps this restlessness is a sign of your recovery." Jack's smile grew brighter. He hadn't left his room in…he didn't know how long. He wasn't used to walking anymore (even when he hid his notebook or reached up to the wind, he never placed his full weight on his feet) and so he had to lean heavily on Pitch's arm as he stumbled to the door.

Outside his room…he had forgotten how eternal and twisting Pitch's home was, so long it had been since he had left. They were on a long bridge and high above he could see cages, his attention drawn there by faint noises from above.

"Pitch," he asked "what are those?"

"You've never questioned me before."

"I was just curious…"

"And there's nothing wrong with that. They're there to catch those foolish enough to try and come here and disturb me or distress _you_."

"Have…have any come down here?"

"No, not for a long time." Jack nodded and fell silent, trying not to show his fatigue. But it was hopeless. Though he did manage to walk a good fifty feet before his legs began to quake. Clinging tightly to Pitch, he struggled to just stay upright. Fifty feet was the furthest he had walked since they had begun the rest cure and he was proud of himself for being able to walk that far at all.

"Tired," he said, his knees trembling.

"Precision of language, Snowflake," Pitch gently reminded. But he could see the boy was truly trying his hardest just to stand. "You made it fifty feet. Do you want to go back?"

"Yes. I want…I want to rest." Pitch smiled, and began to lead him back. But at the small noise that Jack made, an indulgent look crossed his face and he picked the boy up. Cradling the boy of cold close to him, Pitch walked with all the strength that the other lacked, settling him into the bed and pulling the quilt (woven from shadows and worn with frost) to cover the boy.

"Would you like a dream?" he asked gently, brushing back the white hair.

"Yes."

"What would you like to dream about?"

"Playing with the children. If they could see me."

"Done. Sleep well, Snowflake."

* * *

_There was a fiery circle, though it did not hurt me the way most heat does. This circle surrounded a figure who stood as if against the swirling cyclone of time, a figure of great strength and great kindness. This figure was of a creature, and yet I do not have the word for what creature it was, so foreign to me was that which I saw. This creature, as it spoke to me, recognized that all there was to life was a hope for life to continue and to continue well._

_For this creature recognized the futility and indescribable beauty of civilization, for none could withstand the millenniums before them though they did not give up in creating such beautiful things. And in this way the creature shared with me the secrets of the earth, how the ancient songs sing within the rocks, silent in the time of my strength, the winter, and then loudly and with strength in the time that I am weak in the realm of the mortals._

_These visions, they have given me barely a moment's peace. I am coming to the opinion that perhaps it is the cursed moon that sends me these horrible sights. I have never had a vision during the daylight hours, surely it is the moon that is doing such a thing._

_I wish that the moon would not torment me so, I have retreated underground for a cure for what it forced upon me, I would not have it pursue me. The moon must be at fault for my continued illness._

* * *

Jack was sitting in the corner of his room, having hidden the notebook up near the crack, when Pitch entered. The man saw him and went to him, kneeling beside the boy and helping him to his feet, leading him to the bed. "You shouldn't go about like that. You had to be carried back to your room when you went on a walk last."

"Pitch, make the moon go away," begged the boy suddenly. "Pluck it from the sky and throw it into the deepest part of the ocean."

"Snowflake, I may be able to do many a thing, but I cannot do that."

"I hate it! It tortures me!"

"Jack, the moon is weaker trying to reach into my realm. We are deep underground, it is very weak. Besides, you do seem to be making some progress. You really are, Snowflake, whether you can see it or not. You are gaining flesh and color, your appetite is better—"

"Why do you say that?" moaned Jack as he was settled into his bed once more.

"Because it is _true,_ child."

"I _don't_ weigh any more than I did a year ago! My appetite is better in the morning when you are here, but it's worse in the evening when you're gone!"

Pitch's tone grew very strict, and yet not unkind. It sounded, to Jack, like a father, like home, like safety. "Jack, you mustn't give up. There is nothing more fascinating to your condition than the idea of facing the wall and shutting down, but you must remain strong. You've been so strong for so long, do not give in to this foolish fantasy. If you cannot trust me as your caretaker, will you trust me as your physician?"

"But I'm not…I'm not…"

"The rest cure is _proven,_ Jack. And we've been following it, and you are doing better. You're eating quite a bit each day, potatoes, meat, milk, and you haven't left your bed unless I've helped you. And this occasion seems to be spurred more by distress at the moon than anything else. You do want to get well, don't you?"

"I just wish I knew _how_."

"And that is the final proof that you have been trying your hardest. This is where you will find yourself recovering. And if the moon would stop interfering you will be well soon." And he began to pull away from the boy.

"Don't leave me, please. Stay with me."

"I can't, Jack. I do wish I could, but I can't. I need to work. For if I don't…"

"Hope, wonder, and dreams will go without a balance. And wonder blinds, hope sets you up to be crushed and you always wake up from dreams."

"Exactly. I _will_ return. I'm not going far, I'll be back before the moon hits its zenith. Would you like me with you then?" Jack simply nodded, and curled into himself as Pitch took his leave.

* * *

_This notebook, forbidden as it is, has largely become a record of that which the moon inflicts on me. Someday I may show this to Pitch and while he may be upset that I have disobeyed my cure, perhaps he will be able to devise a cure from these experiences._

_But I will not speak of such a thing now. No, I will instead write of what I have heard. I cannot speak of such a thing to anyone else, least of all Pitch._

_I try my best to be good, to sleep and rest and I usually can. Yet these past days I have heard most worrying things from the shadows. These shadows are very strange indeed. They do not move like a sun-shadow and are not cast from the moon, they are chased away by the moon (the one good deed the horrible thing does), and certainly they are not under the domain of Pitch._

_I am very wary of these shadows, for they whisper in a rising and falling that does not follow any pattern nor can I discern their speech. What do they speak of? Why do they find it appropriate to find their meeting place within my room?_

_Pitch once mentioned that I was lucky, for others with my condition sometimes imagine that they can hear voices or see things. I remember being proud of myself for having avoided such a fate and thinking that I must be good so as to not fall prey to such a thing. I most sincerely hope that I have not succumbed to my condition without realizing it. And yet I hesitate to ask Pitch about such things for fear that that is the case._

_I will sleep, and perhaps they will be gone when I awake._

* * *

Pitch had found himself holding Jack and rocking him back and forth over the years more often than he could count. This time, like many of the other times, Jack was sobbing. Whatever it was that had distressed him, he wasn't able to say. Small icy fingers were digging into his back, frozen tears melting against his neck, but Pitch held the boy tight.

Pitch typically _caused_ children to reach this state, he wasn't the expert in helping a child _out_ of this state, that he left to parents and Sandman. But Jack, his Snowflake, managed to rouse some long forgotten and question raising paternal instinct that told him _protect and care for_ when it came to the child of ice and snow.

"Oh Snowflake," he murmured as the boy pulled himself even closer. "What distressed you so?" But the boy was too hysterical to stop. Pitch, in a last attempt to calm the boy before the nightmares that were creeping about the edges of the room came and attacked the child, began to hum. He had always been fond of the song he was humming, and when it seemed to help the boy, he began to sing to the child.

His voice was by no means the sweetest ever heard, but it was enough. "Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane and I'll bite out his bonny blue een, wi ae lock o his golden hair, we'll theek our nest when it grows bare. Many a one for him makes mane, but none shall ken where he is gane, o'er his white bones when they are bare'o the wind shall blow for evermair'o, the wind shall blow for evermair…"

The Bogeyman, no matter how terrifying, helped calm the boy from desperate sobs with such fear that he couldn't tell the source to gentle hiccups. Perhaps it was due to his only interaction being with Pitch, but it was good that the boy felt so safe around him.

"There was a…a _thing_," Jack finally said, his voice thick with tears and trembling.

"Precision of language, Jack," reminded Pitch.

"But I don't know what it was!"

"Alright. Describe it to me. Before you came here, had you ever seen it before?"

"I…I think so."

"Where? When?"

"It was seventeen eighty something. I…I was in Tibet. Making it snow in the mountains. There was a town and it was there. I didn't know what it was then and I don't know now but it didn't come after me last time like it did this time."

"What did it look like?"

"It was all gold and grainy and it was so _bright_ it hurt to look at. It came down through the crack, Pitch. It came down and was reaching for me. I _panicked_ and I hit it and then these…these…_dolphins_ came out and they tried to get to me but every time I hit them more and more showed up and they wouldn't _go away_ and I was so scared, Pitch. I was _so so scared._"

"It's gone now and that's what matters. Jack, do you know what I saw today?" The sudden change of topic made him look up. "I saw a little girl today."

"What about her?"

"She was in her home dancing like a ballerina. Did you know there's a whole dance in a ballet now that's just snowflakes? She was dancing along to the music."

"Snowflakes? There's…there's a ballet about what I bring?"

"Yes, and it's really very lovely."

"So…so they like my cold?"

"Child, they haven't had _your _cold in a very long time. Now they've gotten used to the cold brought by the winds. Soon as you get well you can give them your cold. They'll love it far more than the stand in." Content with this, Jack rested his head against Pitch's chest, eyes closing as weariness passed over him, weariness from tears or terror he didn't know.

"It's…it's not going to come back, is it? The thing?"

"I can't guarantee anything, Snowflake, but I don't think it will come back, at least not soon. Would having your staff make you feel safer?" Jack nodded.

The staff was Jack's primary source of comfort when Pitch was gone, but in his panic, Jack had knocked it to the far side of the room. Retrieving it, Pitch handed it to the boy, who brought it close. If he had it, he could protect himself better than alone. "Good night, Pitch," he said as he settled himself beneath the quilt of shadow and frost.

"Good night, Snowflake."

* * *

_What visions the moon continues to send! It _must_ be the moon, for I did not have these visions since the crack in my room was widened. This last night, I saw the person of a thousand colors again. She (for now I realize that she was a woman) was in a place like a dream. I have not seen such a place in any way aside from a dream, and if I was not familiar with the way the moon sends these things, I would assume that I had simply dreamed the whole encounter!_

_This place was high in the mountains, in such a place that offers both an impossible ascent and descent, protecting it from the grown ups who lack the same sanctity of substance as children. It was protected from the outside world as a whole, and shone as if the entire universe sang its praises, as if the sun favored it with all its sweetest beams as reward for whatever purpose it held._

_This purpose became very apparent, for it was alive and singing with a hundred thousand colorful creatures. This woman of colors made it clear through her conduct and even through her speech that this song came from the joy of existence. For the song, she said, was not created from one's own being, that it is instead a sound perceived and replicated through joyous song. Though this replication did not come to be through normal means, but from some happy soul filled with the touch of the universe and all the good within it._

_These things, as she spoke, were clear and grand, and I wondered at how I could not have understood these things at some time long before. However, now that I am again safe within my bed I recognize them to be naught but some nonsense the moon has drummed up. I will write of this and I will not think of it again._

* * *

When Jack awoke there was silence, silence absolutely everywhere. But he was familiar with this silence, this silence meant that Pitch was home, but did not want to wake him. This was a kind sentiment, but Jack was feeling energetic again, the first time in such a long time he had forgotten what it felt like.

He could hear Pitch coming, for as quiet as he could be, there was always a whisper of noise. Just enough that it would making a dozing child wake with fear and terror, just enough noise that Jack (for he tried to be good but wasn't always the model of a perfect patient) had warning enough to slide out of his bed and slip underneath. The door opened and he made certain that he couldn't be seen, peering out to see Pitch's feet there.

"I wonder where my Snowflake has gone," Pitch was saying, stepping towards the bed. He set down the plate he was undoubtedly carrying. "Has he found a nice nose to rest on and gone on an adventure? No, I don't believe that my Snowflake would do _that._" Oh, oh this was Jack's favorite part. "Perhaps he's just…" and two hands grasped at Jack from the shadows under the bed, pulling him through the shadows and into Pitch's arms "hiding!"

Jack laughed as Pitch spun him around, falling onto the bed and tickling him. In fact, he was so busy laughing and trying to fight away his caretaker that he didn't notice how the shadows were growing around the corners of the room.

"Are you feeling energetic today?" Pitch asked, his long fingers finding the place on Jack's neck that made him howl with laughter, pressing his head against his shoulder to make him stop. Finally, the boy managed to get away, using his quilt as a shield. "You do know that you need to rest."

"I've been good!" insisted Jack. "I've not left bed for…well, since the last time I left bed!"

"That was a week ago."

"Then I've been good for a week!"

"Yes you have. But _now,_ Jack, you must eat and then rest. How are you to get better if you won't rest?"

"I've been resting." And peering out from the quilt, he could see when Pitch smiled, his smile that special smile that came only when he was asking what Jack wanted to dream of, the smile that came when he would sit and sing Jack off to sleep without having to be asked. Jack remembered parents and nurses smiling at children like that, godparents too.

"Come out from there and eat Jack." And he did. Once he had eaten, he settled into bed as Pitch righted the quilt to cover him, tucking him in as nurses did for their charges (but Pitch had reminded him again and again that no one really had a nurse raise their children anymore). Sitting on Jack's bed of ice, he gave that special smile again, brushing Jack's hair away from his face.

"Pitch?" Jack said softly.

"Yes, Snowflake?"

"I was thinking. I do that a lot." Pitch smiled at that and it made Jack proud. "But…I was thinking. If I don't have anything to recover _for_, then won't I not recover at all?"

"Oh, Jack. Isn't it the love of your children you want to get better for?"

"But all the children I've played with are dead by now. I've been down here for so long. Pitch, sometimes I think that I'll never get better."

"Jack…there are places, places that I will show you as soon as you are well. They are beautiful places no one else can see, not children, not adults, not even the others of our kind. They know that some exist, but not all and not even all that is there."

"Like what?"

"Deep places, hidden underneath mountains and sand dunes. They are dark and secluded from the world. Dark and cool, they are the places where kings and queens have their final rests. My favorite place is the Emperor's City. He built himself a palace underground where he might rest after death." Jack sat up, amazed at the picture Pitch was painting. "There are gardens and offices, armories and acrobats, musicians and zoos even. There is a river with beautiful water birds about it. Rivers of mercury and traps to keep those who would steal these things out. And standing guard are a hundred thousand soldiers, each armed, with chariots and great officers who await their highest commander to lead them into battle."

"And you'll take me there?"

"As soon as you're well. Perhaps we could make our home there."

"I'd like that. Are there other places like that?"

"None so splendid. But I will show you the others too, if you so wish." Jack nodded, and Pitch smiled. "Now you must rest. I shouldn't be keeping you up with stories."

And it seemed that Pitch was still in that indulgent mood (it had been coming more and more often now and Jack wasn't sure why, but he loved it), for when Jack was settled, he didn't leave, instead sitting on Jack's bed and beginning to sing him one of his lullabies. "_Dies irae, dies illa, solvent saeclum in favilla,_" he began to sing "_teste David cum Sibylla. Quantus tremor est futurus, quando judex est venturus, cuncta stricte discussurus. Dies irae, dies illa, solvet saeclum in favilla teste David cum Sybilla…"_

It was rare that Pitch would sing Jack to sleep of his own volition, but Jack never managed to stay awake to appreciate it. Pitch's singing wasn't about to be applauded on the grand stages of Vienna or London, but to Jack it was the voice of safety and home and even a little bit like a father's.

Even if his songs were about the world being consumed in ashes.

* * *

**A/N: **You can't tell me that "Dies Irae" would not be one of Pitch's favorite songs. I mean really. "Day of wrath, that day shall consume the world in ashes as foretold by David and the Sybil. What great trembling there shall be when the judge comes to weigh everything strictly."

And for those of you wondering, the other lullaby is "Twa Corbies" a traditional Scottish song also known as "The Three Ravens." Twa Corbies tells the story of two ravens that are discussing about how they will eat a dead knight because his hound, hawk, and wife have all left him and no one knows he's there.

Also yes they were discussing Qi Shi Huangdi's burial city. It really is quite fascinating.


	3. Stories

**A/N: **Wow you guys, thanks for such an enthusiastic response! I'm actually really honored you like this story so much. So this chapter marks the end of "Act One" if you will. I'm not certain how much I really like this chapter, but I've edited this and I think this just might be the best I can do. Who knows, I might just come back with a freshly edited version but for now I think we're good.

And I do not own these characters.

* * *

_I had another vision, and yet more importantly, I had some troubling thoughts. I spoke of only one to Pitch, I kept this vision secret as I have the others._

_This vision showed me a place wherein the man of red and white was master. He lived in a place built upon wonders. There were creatures that seemed to be made of music as they sang as they went about, even without opening their mouths. Great creatures of power molded things of beauty from ideals of shining wondrous ice._

_And yet, these powerful creatures and the creatures of song, they were in reverence to the man of red and white. And it became clear that, as a mirror reflects all things and is set inside a frame, the same was of this man. He seemed larger than his own substance, no matter that this substance was rather great in its own right. His soul seemed to be as a mirror, housed in a body but able to contemplate and even understand the mysteries of magic and power, and he described it to me as "wonder."_

_But as Pitch has told me, as I have come to hold as truth so much as that I create the ice and snow, wonder does naught but blind a child and ill prepare them for what life is like. Wonder is a Trojan Horse indeed, there are no two ways about it. And so I will think of this no more than I do my other visions and instead write about something else._

_The thoughts I had, they pertain to these continuing whispers in the shadows. I wish very deeply that these are naught but my imagination, that they come from my being around the Bogeyman for so long. It seems logical, that perhaps they are my fear for my condition manifesting themselves, but I fear sometimes that that is not the case._

* * *

Pitch didn't eat with Jack often, citing that he ate before or wasn't hungry. But sometimes he did, and Jack liked those times the most. But this time, as Jack poked at his rare meat (he still held that it was bleeding, yes he knew it wasn't Pitch, can't he play pretend just a little bit?), Pitch turned to him, brow furrowed.

"You've been hearing voices," he said. Jack looked away. There was no point in trying to hide your fear from the Bogeyman. "And you're scared that it's from your condition."

"I don't want to be hearing voices, Pitch," Jack said. "You told me that hearing voices is a bad sign. Make them go away."

"I don't believe that they are from within your own mind," Pitch said gently. "I mentioned it to you and you started thinking about it. There is always going to be a part of me that looks for people's fears. I can't stop it anymore than I can stop breathing. If that is your fear, then my being around you might be causing you to hear them."

"So…so I'm not getting worse?"

"I don't think so. You seem to be improving, even. I can't say how soon you will recover just yet, but you are getting better."

"I don't feel better."

"Jack, we've had this discussion. You may not feel better, but you _are._ Given time and belief and you'll be right as rain."

"And the voices?"

"They may not go away so long as you're here, but once you are no longer frightened about growing worse, then they should vanish. I promise you they'll go away eventually." Jack smiled. When had Pitch ever lied to him? He had no reason to disbelieve him. "Now _eat_, Jack."

* * *

"Will you tell me a story?" asked Jack after their therapy session. Pitch, sitting in the chair, gave him an amused smile.

"Why do you want a story, Jack?"

"My mind is whirling around so fast I feel like I can't keep up. A story might help slow it down a bit." Pitch smiled and settled into his chair once more, his fingers lacing in preparation to spin images and ideas like a spider does a web.

"And what would you like to hear about?"

"I don't know. Something exciting."

"Excitement isn't good for you," he warned. "Very well. I'll tell you the story of the Trojan War." Jack gave a grin. He loved this story. "Now a long time ago, there was a beautiful city called Troy. It was ruled by a good king Priam and his wife Hecuba. They had two sons and a daughter, Hector, the great, Paris, the handsome, and Cassandra, the priestess. Troy was a peaceful place, I didn't much go there but for nightmares. But I went there often enough to know what happened."

"The war happened."

"Ah, but something very important happened _before _the war. Paris brought home a bride."

"So? People get married every day! I want to hear about the _horse._"

"So impatient. Perhaps I shouldn't tell the story at all." But he was smiling and Jack knew that he'd tell. "Paris' bride came from Sparta, the most beautiful woman anyone had ever seen. Her name was Helen. Helen was Queen of Sparta in her own right, and she loved Paris just as much as he loved her."

"Then how did the war start?"

"Helen was married."

"To Paris?"

"No, to Menelaus, the king of Sparta. Without her there, he was not legitimate king of Sparta. So he called to his brother Agamemnon and they rallied all the kingdoms of Greece to attack. Ten thousand ships. That was how the war began."

"When was the horse?"

"My Snowflake doesn't care about the war itself! He only wishes to hear about the horse!"

"But that's when all the _exciting _stuff is. Achilles getting hit in his ankle, Cassandra predicting their end and no one believing her, Andromache and Astynax, and how Aeneas and his men escaped to Carthage and how Dido cursed the Romans forever!"

"I've told you those stories a hundred thousand times. I daresay you can tell the story of Aeneas and Dido better than me."

"But the war is just people dying and it's just so boring to hear lists of people dying."

"What, Patroklos isn't exciting enough for you? How Achilles avenged his death by killing Hector and desecrating his body? When they finally got it back the Trojan children had nightmares for ages, that I promise you."

"It sounds boring to me. Patroklos dies, Achilles kills Hector, he desecrates the body and keeps it from Priam and Hecuba and finally gives it back after it's rotted enough to give children nightmares. End of story. See, even _I_ can tell it. I want an exciting story. One that keeps my mind from flying away."

"Very well, though I don't know what there is to tell you then. I've told you the stories of Troy."

"Then tell them again! Please? Can't you tell them in a different way or something? Like how Virgil wrote the story of Aeneas."

"Would you object to a story about one of the Greeks?"

"But they were so cruel. I don't want to hear a story about how they raped some poor girl."

"Not all the stories of the Greeks are those of the horrible things they did to the Trojans."

"Can't you tell me the story of Astynax? How he went to France and founded the city of Paris?"

"Not much to be said about that, actually. Come Jack, what have I told you about knowing both sides to a story?"

"If I only know the one then I'll chase the monster through the forest. If I know both I'll invite him in to tea."

"Exactly. Now would you rather chase the Greeks or enjoy tea?"

Jack frowned and said, "Tea, I suppose." And despite how much he disliked the Greek invaders, the approving smile from Pitch made it worth having to sit through the story. But so long as it kept his mind still he would be glad of it.

"Well, as soon as the war was won, and you know all about that, the Greeks prepared to return home. Odysseus was king of Ithaca, an island a very long way away from Troy. He had left his wife Penelope behind, as well as his son Telemachus."

And soon Jack was sitting mesmerized at the story Pitch was weaving. The Cyclops, the Sirens, Charybdis and Scylla, a voyage to the Underworld, a witch who turned men into pigs, Hermes and Pallas Athena, Princes and Princesses, he couldn't believe he had never asked about the stories of the Greeks before!

"Now through all this, everyone thought Odysseus to be dead! Back on Ithaca, Penelope was forced to entertain horrible suitors. They ate all the food and drank all the wine, and that was a horrible thing to do in those days. But Penelope continued to play hostess, she didn't wish to spit in the face of their traditions of hospitality for fear of angering the gods."

"Odysseus did enough of that for both of them," Jack said. Pitch smiled.

"Yes, he certainly did. But these men, they forced Penelope into a horrible deal. She would have to weave her wedding veil and as soon as she finished she would have to marry one of them."

"But that's not fair! Odysseus was trapped on Calypso's island!"

"I thought you didn't like Odysseus."

"I didn't, I don't, I don't know. But I still think it's unfair!"

"No one had heard from Odysseus for years, Snowflake. Everyone in the world mocked Penelope and Telemachus for thinking he still lived. So no one challenged the demand the suitors made. But Penelope was clever. She would weave every day, and unweave a little bit each night, so she could keep weaving for years and never finish."

"But wouldn't the suitors realize?"

"Unfortunately, they did soon enough. But luckily, Odysseus had been on a few more adventures in the time."

Jack, entranced with the magic of Athena and the gracious Princess Nausicaa, couldn't think of whispering shadows nor could his mind help but stay grounded. As Pitch spoke of Odysseus visiting his father and planning revenge on the suitors, he grinned, uncaring of his visions. And when the story came to a thrilling conclusion of a murdering of the suitors and Odysseus reuniting with Penelope in their bed carved from a living tree, Jack nearly forgot about the moon shadows.

"And how was that for a story?" asked Pitch finally.

"It was amazing!" said Jack. "I still like Aeneas better, but Odysseus had really good adventures!"

"His story is better known than Aeneas' though. It has to do with the monsters."

"The Cyclops was aweful. Are they real? Have you met one?" Jack could see Pitch's eyes grow very complicated, he knew that Pitch tried to keep him with the times, but it was so difficult and it seemed Jack was stuck referring to things as "aweful" instead of "awesome."

"I'm afraid I've never met a Cyclops, I can't tell you if they're real or not based on that. Now you should be resting."

"May I have a dream? About the story. Sailing the seas, fighting monsters—"

"And not the horse?"

"Maybe a little bit about the horse."

"Very well. Sleep now, Jack." A gentle kiss was pressed to Jack's brow, and Jack began to drift off, the dream taking shape in his mind, images of wine dark seas and mighty horses filled with heroes. Pitch was very good at hiding what would make a nightmare, Jack would be too engaged in the story of his dream to notice the horrors of Charybdis and Scylla, perhaps he would be so excited to have gotten past the clapping rocks and sirens to realizes what they meant, maybe forget that dozens of men drowned, he would likely forget about the slaughter of Troy as he did even awake.

* * *

_It has been not much time at all since my last vision. The times between these visions are growing closer and closer together and I cannot fathom why and I truly have no desire to. Pitch's story of Odysseus was no more than a few days ago and I have been visited by a vision that has done nothing but distress me._

_In this vision I saw the person of great brightness and peace. This person was within a place that shone just as they did, nearly as bright as the sun. Each bit of this place seemed to be alive and were joined, like hairs on a head, to this person._

_Each vision has seemed so real to me, and yet this was the first in which I suffered such exhaustion. I wanted nothing more than to sleep and that has done naught but disturb me. The idea that a person could force someone to sleep, the idea that perhaps they could control when you awake again, they fill me with such horror I cannot speak._

_What has occurred? What has made the moon torture me so often? I see nothing, yes the whispers, but Pitch has assured me that they will fade as soon as I am well. Has it decided that my ultimate fate is true madness? I will spit in the face of its desires and I will not succumb. I will be good and not write._

_You have been a comfort to me, journal, but I will find my comforts in other places. I will not be naughty anymore._

* * *

Jack's resolve to be good lasted two weeks. He didn't so much as touch the pencil, instead sleeping and being very good when Pitch asked him questions about things he had seen or things that had happened to him that caused him to be so distressed, anything to help Jack's mind heal from whatever had broken it.

But through those two weeks the whispers hadn't stopped, only doing so when the moon shone down the crack and cast _its_ shadows down. Jack had taken to staring at them when he would have been writing (which he swore to himself he would not do) and began to think and fancy that he could see patterns in the shadows. So he tried to follow them with his eyes but whenever they seemed to take form he would have exhausted himself and fell asleep.

Once he nearly saw something he could almost call a bird, but not quite. Another time it was nearly a small man. There was a shape that reminded him of the small rabbits that ran through the snowy places and he hadn't seen them in _ages_ and he had begun to cry at that and he didn't know why he was crying so he just went to sleep.

And finally, he was visited by a vision so real it left him just quaking, struggling to put it into words until he broke his promise and took up the notebook once more. But there were still no words. What words were there of a place that was so against his element, so full of colors, so _green_ like the little plants that he sometimes froze when he had visited some places in the early days of spring.

Spring! Of course! He had a vision of the spring!

But _why?_ Why, now that was the question. He had never been in a place like that, never would, for some part of him told him that he would melt if he attempted it, the same part that told him that if he left Pitch's care he would be worse off than the poor souls in the madhouses.

Looking down at his notebook, he had only scribbled the words "Green" and "Spring" and he could not think of anything else to write. All his visions were vibrant in his mind, he couldn't forget any of it, not the place alive with song, the shining place that sent him into exhaustion, not the place that was filled with creatures that lived and even thrived in the ice he could create.

And still, _still _he couldn't bear it. He wanted so badly that when he wrote the images down that they would vanish. He wanted them to just go away, he wanted—

He found himself screaming.

The notebook found itself tangled in the quilt, hidden still as Pitch came in. It had been ages since Jack had simply screamed like that, it was a scream that came in response to something the boy wanted to scare away, and it always seemed to be shadows from the moon or something else of the sort.

"Jack, Jack what's wrong? What's upsetting you?" Pitch asked in his kindest voice, nearly fighting the boy into his arms. "Oh Jacky Boy, Snowflake, my dear boy." Jack was scrabbling at him, clutching best he could as he wailed into the man's shoulder, eyes wide and distressed. Pitch pressed kiss after kiss to Jack's hair, hoping to sooth him enough that the congregating nightmares would let him alone.

"Would you like a story, Jack? How about one about a knight? No, no, how about the Spicy Red Dragon and his cave of secrets? The Twinkling Man and his tricks and tales? The Warlock Demon? I could tell you about his potions. Love potions made of daisies and nettles and a maiden's sigh. Please Jack, calm down. Calm down, child. Oh Snowflake…"

He began to tell him stories, wrapping him in his cloak. Jack, tucked inside the dark material felt safe and protected from the world around him. There was nothing that could get underneath the cloak that enfolded him.

Slowly, Jack calmed enough to hear and understand the stories Pitch was telling. A monster and a scientist in the arctic, a little girl who sold matches, a queen who told her husband stories every night so that she would not be killed, three men all named Genjia. They were stories he had all heard before, but they were mixed up into one strange mass, a story made of many smaller stories.

Pitch was just telling the story of a little girl who was thrown through a mirror into another world when Jack's hands went from distressed clutching to a weak hold. Pitch stopped his story, drawing his cloak away from the boy, looking to him with concern.

"Are you alright now?" Jack just shrugged. He wasn't sure himself. "What upset you so much?"

"The moon."

"What did it do?"

"I don't _know_ but it did something and I wanted it to stop and I just…I didn't realize I was screaming at first. Can you make it stop? Make it go away?" Pitch was quiet for a long time before he sighed and said,

"No, Jack. But I _can_ close the crack for you. Block the moon from you entirely."

"I like the air. The wind comes down here sometimes. But I don't like the moon. It tortures me with its shadows and…make it go away."

"If that's what you want. Try to sleep, I'll close it." And Jack curled himself into the quilt, the notebook under his leg as he watched Pitch point directly at the crack. Shadows raced up, dragging the two sides closer to one another until they joined, the light that illuminated the rest of the realm taking the place of the moonlight. "Is that better?" Jack smiled as Pitch tucked the blanket closer around him.

"Mm-hmm."

"Would you like a dream?"

"Yes please. May I dream about The Brass City? Or-or Ali the Cariene?"

"You may. Now to sleep with you. You can't sleep unless you dream."

"Will…will you sing to me?" he didn't want to ask too much, but he did love to be sung to sleep.

"Not tonight. I have so much to do, I barely have time to breathe. But tomorrow, I promise." Jack nodded, laying down his head and closing his eyes, the dreamy images of palaces and cities in lands he could never visit shimmering before him as he slipped deeper into sleep.

* * *

**A/N: **So yeah this basically was story time. Influenced heavily by me seeing the opera "Les Troyens" by Berlioz last week.

The stories are, in order, The Iliad, The Aeneid, The Odyssey, Frankenstein, The Little Match Girl, 1001 Arabian Nights, and The Story of the Three Genjias. And then mentioned are two stories within 1001 Arabian Nights, both of which are considered to have horror elements in it, the Brass City dealing with a ghost town, and Ali the Cariene dealing with a house haunted by a hundred jinns.


	4. The Burial Palace

**A/N: **Heads up everyone, I've been doing far too much research on Ancient China. Plus watching the movies "Hero" and "House of Flying Daggers" and listening to their soundtracks. But this "act" likely won't be much longer than the last "act" so there's at least that.

* * *

_The whispers have gotten worse. They never quiet, they used to when the moon shone in but now that is not the case. Pitch _assured me_ that they would fade in time, but I have yet to get any better at all. I am told that I am indeed recovering, I have a tonic for each hour of the day, but I do not feel as if I am better. No, I feel that perhaps I am worsening._

Jack looked up. He had heard a noise, a sort of hiss. A long moment passed and he returned to his writing. Perhaps it had just been a Nightmare.

_I have even taken Cod Liver Oil without complaint! As little as possible, it must be understood. It has been shown to me throughout my life that lying is a vice and thus I must never commit such a thing. And I confess that I never have. What evil have I then done that has prolonged my suffering? What have I done that the moon was so set against me to have hurt me in such a way?_

There was another noise, this one sounding almost like a footstep. Jack felt unease creep up on him, even as he tried to fight it down. Pitch wouldn't be trying to frighten him. That wasn't what Pitch did. Pitch tickled him and told him stories and sang him to sleep and held him and was safety and home and a little bit like a father. Steeling himself, he returned to writing.

_No, I should not be writing, and yet I feel that the moon was crueler when I did not write. It is gone now, ever since Pitch closed the crack a few days ago. But still I fear._

_Indeed, my fear is currently quite extreme and I have no idea why. I feel panicked, I feel as if I want to run yet I do not want to, for this is my safe haven. This is my sanctuary. I am only safe here and yet I hold my staff close to protect_

And there it was. That final sound. A shout and running footsteps. Jack honestly did not know what to make of it, those sounds he heard. And when the door slammed open to reveal Pitch there, looking (dare he say it?) frightened, Jack had no earthly idea how to react, what to do.

But Pitch just rushed to him, putting his hands heavily on his shoulders and speaking to him in a frightened but firm voice. "Jack, Jack do you remember the City I told you about?" Jack stared at Pitch, for the man looked distressed and fearful but Jack couldn't understand why and if Pitch was scared something horrible must have happened. It certainly seemed like it, with howling screams coming ever closer from outside his room. "Jack, _do you?_"

"The Emperor's. With all the wonders inside and the soldiers standing guard."

"Yes. Jack, you need to go there."

"Without you?"

"Yes. Jack, I am so sorry, but you need to go _now._ Take your staff and your quilt, and be on your best behavior. The soldiers will protect you, and I promise I will come for you as soon as I can."

"But—"

"I'm _sorry._ Be good." He pressed a kiss to Jack's forehead and pressed the staff into his arms, before standing before him as the door filled with furious shadows. Pitch's shadow fell over Jack and he fell through it, hearing the shrieks from the nightmares and shadows. The very things that Pitch controlled.

It was a dizzying experience, falling through shadows, but eventually he landed on solid ground. As soon as he regained his bearings, Jack looked around, pulling his quilt close around him. His staff and his journal had come too, he could see them. Collecting them, he looked around. He was on a paved road of sorts, in the cool underground. He could go forward or back, and instead curled up against the wall.

He wanted Pitch to be with him, but now he was all alone in this burial city and he didn't want to be here alone, he wanted to come here when he was well with Pitch and live here like he had promised they would. Curled into himself, he started to cry. But as he did, he could hear footsteps and that made him feel worse. Whoever was here was going to walk through him and he couldn't _bear_ that and—

A hand on his shoulder made him jump and look up. There was a man there, his hair tied elaborately atop his head. Beside him walked another man. They were both dressed in stone armor, carrying daggers at their sides. There was a heaviness to them, and when one knelt, his knee hit the ground hard, revealing them to be made of stone.

"Who are you, child?" the one who touched him asked, his voice like two rocks ground together.

"My name is Jack Frost," the boy replied. Pitch had told him that the soldiers would protect him, after all. "Pitch Black sent me here for my protection."

"The King of the Shadows," the other said, more to himself than anyone else. Jack had never heard Pitch referred to by that name, but he had never really met anyone outside of Pitch who could see him, so he wasn't going to stop and ask about a simple title. It seemed appropriate enough anyway.

"He takes care of me. He told me I'd be safe here."

"Then do not weep in the hallways. Come, we will bring you to the palace." They helped the boy stand and walked on either side of him through the darkness. They ended up holding him up more often than not, and eventually one of them ended up carrying him outright. The armor he wore was real and it was nothing like the soft fabrics Pitch wore, woven of shadows themselves. It felt foreign and Jack didn't like it but he couldn't walk for the life of him and thus he had no right to complain. He didn't want to anyway, now that he had been banished from the only real home he had ever known.

* * *

The palace was a very interesting place. It was beautiful, certainly, with painted tiles on the floor, decorations of dragons and phoenixes, but Jack, from his place in the soldier's arms, could see many people walking together or alone and he was far more interested in them. There were more and more as they went along, women and men. They didn't have the same solidness that the soldiers did. But they were much more resplendent.

Women had beautiful gold pieces in their hair, colorful dresses with sleeves so long he couldn't see their hands. They walked with practiced grace, though they looked frail. The men were plainer, though they were also rather fine. They spoke in hushed tones, staring at him as he was carried past, and Jack felt as if he was on display and that he would never be safe again.

And yet, they passed these people by, going deeper and deeper into the mountain. Carefully brushing past what Jack saw to be death traps (Pitch had always gone into such detail with all his stories, after all), he was carried into a hall of gold, a place where a tomb stood among rivers of what looked like molten silver. Mercury, he realized. He remembered how whole neighborhoods had been inoculated with the stuff.

But his attention was drawn to a figure that appeared before him and the soldiers, as the one who held him set him down. This man wore a long moustache, a crown on his head, but long yellow robes, standing with all the strength and power that Pitch did. But this man's power did not come from being master of all shadows and what resided inside, it came from something else.

"Majesty, the King of Shadows has sent this boy to you," one of the soldiers said. "We were on our way to report to you what the humans had been up to during this day and found him in one of the hallways."

The man's power came from being an Emperor.

"The King of Shadows?" he echoed, approaching from the golden tomb. "He hasn't come here for two hundred years at the very least."

"That is why we brought him to you, majesty."

"I see. Child, what is your name?" Jack, who had been staring at the man with naught but awe, spluttered a moment before managing,

"Jack. Jack Frost. Majesty." The man repeated his name a few times. It seemed to sit strangely in his mouth, and Jack supposed that when the Emperor had been alive there hadn't been too many boys named Jack. To Jack's knowledge there _still_ weren't many boys named Jack in the place the Emperor had ruled.

"Well, child, you must explain how you were sent here."

"Pitch sent me here. He told me about this place. He said that he would take me here. But something bad happened and he sent me here. He told me that the soldiers would protect me and he looked scared and I don't know what happened to him but I fear the worst and…" he trailed off, hugging his things close to him. The Emperor looked at him critically, obviously thinking.

"The King of Shadows has not visited this place in two hundred years at the very least. And you, you are not from any time so old as my own. How old are you, child?"

"I am nearly three hundred, Pitch tells me so. It's difficult to tell after a while, but he knows."

"And you have been living with him for your whole life?"

"No, he took me in when I was one hundred and two years old."

"It all becomes clear." Jack's brow furrowed, confused. He didn't understand. "The King of Shadows was an honored guest in this court many times, but his visits have ceased these past two hundred years. And now it becomes clear that he has spent these two hundred years with you, keeping and caring for you. To have thought so highly of us when he thought you to be in danger, it is an honor we must respect. There are a hundred thousand other spirits he could have called upon to protect you, but he thought of us. Therefore, Prince of Shadows, you are welcome in my palace and city."

He had never been called "Prince of Shadows" before, but he had also never really spoken to anyone aside from Pitch (well, a few others as well, but they had always thought themselves to be so much better than him). And to have been told that he was welcome and going to be given shelter and could stay until Pitch came for him? It was a cure for a horrible fear that he would be left out in the tunnels or even above the mountain where the moon would have no trouble finding him.

"Thank you, majesty," Jack said, relief flooding through him. If he had been turned away he didn't know what he would do. "You are a gracious ruler indeed. Thank you, thank you."

"But my question is this; what could possibly have occurred that the Dark King did not think that he could protect you?"

"I know not, majesty. He doesn't tell me anything he fears might upset me, it's part of my condition that when I get upset I fail to uphold proper self control and fall to my moods. And it all happened so quickly. I only know that the shadows he controls started to attack, as if he lost all control over them."

"Your condition?"

"Pitch tells me that I suffer depression and mild hysterical tendencies. But he assures me I've been getting better, even if I don't feel I am."

"We have no doctor here, but if your treatment is proscribed to our servants, surely we will find you a cure. Take this boy to a room, let him rest. He must be very distressed after today." One of the soldiers helped him go along, very nearly carrying him.

Jack's new room was beautiful, very different from his bed of ice in Pitch's home. There were decorations of phoenixes and dragons as everywhere else, but here there was a bed that looked to be more decorative than anything else. Yet, it held his weight. It was not the familiar mattress of ice, but it was what had been given to him and he didn't want to complain, especially to the Emperor who had so recently let him into his palace and city.

Yet, he curled up, missing Pitch very deeply as he tried to fall asleep. He managed, but still he missed his caretaker.

* * *

Jack found himself to be content in the palace. He could explore the gardens and the swans and cranes by the river were always pleased to see him. The acrobats tumbled delightedly for him, and he was taught how to fight with his staff by the soldiers, even if it was just through theory. Even the Emperor was kind to him. His concubines (well, some of them) were affectionate, and the Emperor had even assigned one of them, a beautiful woman not much older than him named Mei, to go with him, to help him walk and to make certain he was happy.

"Child," the Emperor had said, once Jack had been summoned and helped to his tomb that was used like a throne room (it looked like one too), "this is Mei. She will look after you, make certain you want for nothing."

"So…she's to be like a nurse?" Jack ventured, uncertain.

"A nurse?"

"A nurse is…she's…she's a woman who makes sure that someone who's sick is comfortable, that they don't do something to make themselves worse. She helps the doctor."

"I suppose you could call Mei that then, if you want." The woman, dressed in gold and red, had said nothing, her face impassive and looking at Jack with faint curiosity at absolute best. He wasn't certain that he'd like her at all.

But when she helped him out of the room, him leaning heavily on the staff and her, her face came alive with a bright smile. "You are the ward of the King of Shadows," she said. "I met him once, you know. I poured his tea when he drank with the Emperor."

"He never mentioned you…"

"I suppose that he would not. I am not anyone great. My father was a prefect, not a noble."

"What's a prefect?" And he was explained what exactly that rank was, how the man had kept peace in the city of Yong. It sounded like a good job, and when Mei spoke of how he had caught an assassin that was attempting to kill the Emperor, Jack thought that yes, it sounded like the _best_ job. It sounded so exciting and you were so respected and you got to chase and arrest criminals and fight them! "Your father must have been amazing with a sword!"

"He was rather good," Mei said. They had been walking this whole time, through tunnels to where Jack knew the concubines liked to spend their time. Practicing dancing and music and the like.

"If I was good at using a sword, I would fight criminals all the time."

"Oh if you were as good as my father, I doubt that you would be so eager."

"Why?"

Jack's legs were shaking something awful, so Mei had them stop and knelt with him on the ground so as to give him a rest. As he rested, she folded her hands (very different from when Pitch told a story, Jack noted. Pitch would gesture, give the impression of waves or of writing or the like, but Mei seemed to become very still and let her words make the images) and began to speak. "There is a philosophy about the sword. In the beginning the man and the sword are separate entities and the man is brash and desires greatness. Then the sword becomes an extension of the man, that is when the man will succeed in duels, for he is calm. In the end, the man and the sword are the same entity. That is when the desire to kill has vanished entirely. If you were so good as my father, you would have no desire to fight and kill."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"But…in the stories I've always heard…"

"You should rest, you look pale as death."

"I'm always pale." She smiled, but helped him up, supporting him as they made their way to the room where so many women were joined, talking and dancing and playing music. Some were painting, others writing, everyone was engaged in something or else. "But in the stories I've heard, all the great heroes were great at the sword and killed so many."

"And what stories have you heard?"

"Lots. Lohengrin, Odysseus, Aeneas, Thor, Sigurd, I heard a little of Achilles' story, Sindbad, all sorts."

"I have never heard of them." And he was settled, a stone servant delivering tea to the boy. "Would you tell me?"

"I can tell you about Sigurd." And he did. Using his staff to help conjure little ice figures, he told the story of the great son of Sigmund. More and more were gathering around, looking curious and engrossed in the story. He was crafting a small version of the horse Grani, and saying, "Grani was descended from Sleipnir and—"

"Jack, I thought I had told you that you needed to rest, not go around making sculptures and telling stories." The familiar voice made Jack look up in delight, the concubines and wives hurriedly moving away to reveal Pitch himself standing there, a look on his face that mixed amusement and worry.

"Pitch!" Jack greeted, a bright smile on his face. He couldn't run to him like he wanted, so he just grinned until Pitch grew close enough for him to embrace.

"I'm so sorry I had to send you here so suddenly," he said, holding Jack just as tightly as he held Pitch. Neither felt the desire to let the other go anytime soon, and all around them, the concubines had bowed their heads in reverence to the man, the King of Shadows they called him. "I am sorry to say, but I must leave you here when I leave."

"But why?"

"Because none of this rushing around is helping you. And because the Nightmares have grown dangerous."

"But you _control_ the shadows."

"To a degree. Jack, do you remember what was happening when I sent you here?"

"You looked scared. I thought something horrible had happened."

"The nightmares, they…Jack, I am going to be very honest with you, and I would rather not do so in front of a hall full of concubines."

"They're good people," insisted Jack. "They'd never tell anyone." Pitch smiled and simply picked up the boy, holding him close as he turned and left the musician's hall. Jack settled happily into the familiar embrace, eyes slipping closed as he was inadvertently rocked as Pitch walked through the palace to reach the river with the cranes and swans. "I like it here," Jack said as he was settled on the riverbank, still in Pitch's arms. "I've been brought here a few times. The birds are made of metal but they seem so real."

"Jack," Pitch said, his voice making Jack look up. He had never heard Pitch sound so serious and sad. "Jack, when I sent you here, the Nightmares, they were trying to hurt you. They decided that you were softening me from who I should be. They wanted to hurt you, to change you from who you are into someone very different. They wanted you to be more like me and I had to send you here while I took control again."

"But you're not bad," protested the child. "You just frighten the children, you balance out the wonder, hope, and dreams. Because—"

"Because wonder blinds, hope sets you up to be crushed, and you always wake up from dreams. Yes, I remember what I've told you. But Jack, you must understand that _I_ am that balance. _You_ cannot be. You are a child, a wonderful, brilliant, beautiful child, and you are not me. You cannot ever become me. Jack, I only have control over my nightmares because you are not there. Over the years there are too many of them for me to have absolute control. I was afraid this might happen."

"So I need to stay here? But I'm supposed to be resting."

"Are you not here?"

"No, because the Emperor and everyone else all want me to see everything and I've tried but I'm not allowed as much sleep as I should be getting."

"I'm not angry. Oh Snowflake…" he wrapped one arm around him, drawing Jack close to him as they watched the cranes stalk through the empty river that ran with shadows. "I don't want to leave you here. And if it must be, I wish that I could be here with you. The Emperor has been good to you and would let us both live here."

"Then why don't you? The nightmares can stay at home and you can be here with me."

"I'm afraid it isn't that simple, Jack. But know this, soon you will be well."

"How can you know that?"

"Do you remember how I've told you that belief will cure you the final bit?"

"Yes."

"Soon the world will believe in Jack Frost. And then you can tumble with the acrobats without worrying about hurting your health, you'll be able to leave the palace and play with the children, and they'll be able to see you." Jack smiled. Talking of belief always made Pitch so excited and content, and the idea of being believed in always was a good one for Jack as well. "Now why did I find you surrounded by concubines?"

"The Emperor assigned Mei to look after me. Like a nurse. She brought me there."

"A nurse would be good for you to have." This was said very contemplatively, and Jack was proud of himself because Pitch sounded like he was agreeing and saying it was a good idea on his part. "Will you tell me what you've seen here?" And Jack did so, explaining all the parts that he liked. He liked the gardens, he liked the river, he liked the musicians, he liked his room, but the best part, the absolute best part was that the moon had no way to reach him where he slept deep inside the inner palace, and even when he visited the outer soldiers, they were housed in a building that kept out the moon. He was safe. He could get air, he could rest, and he didn't have to worry about visions.

He didn't mention the visions, of course, he still was a little scared of what they meant and he didn't want to tell Pitch for fear that they meant something bad.

"But Pitch?" he asked. The Bogeyman looked at him, encouraging him to continue. "Why…why do some of the people here look like they're made of mist or shadows or something? The soldiers and the servants are like stone but some of the people…"

"Jack, I'm not certain you want to hear this story," sighed the man.

"I want to know."

"When the Emperor was dying, he knew that he would be buried under the mountain in the palace. And he didn't want to be alone. So, he gave the order that it would be…inappropriate, was the phrase used, to let the concubines who had not borne sons live. So they were killed to go with him. And once they had been settled, many officials believed that it would be wrong to let the workers who were filling this place with all the beautiful things you see to just leave and tell everyone about what is in here. So, as they were working, the doors were sealed, trapping them inside. Those who aren't made of stone are dead." Jack nodded, processing this. So they were all ghosts. Then why were they so solid to him? Was he a ghost? No, he wasn't, he wasn't a ghost. At least, he thought so. "Have I upset you?"

"No. I just…they're all _dead?_"

"Yes. But they're not upset. They were at the beginning, but they've had two thousand years to cool off."

"I'm not sure if I like that idea."

"That's why I didn't want to tell you." Silence fell and Jack let himself be pulled into an embrace. This was comfort and safety and home. He could survive being in this palace if he had Pitch to keep him safe.

"When will you leave? You said you have to…"

"Very soon, I'm afraid. I don't know when I'll be able to come back, so you need to be very good for Mei and the Emperor." Jack simply nodded. "Do you want to go to bed?" He nodded again, and was picked up, carried through the shadows into his room, where the notebook was tucked in one of the many ornamental boxes, and his shadow quilt lay on the bed. "This can't be comfortable for you. Would you like a mattress of ice?"

"Yes please." And Pitch took the staff and helped Jack hold it, keeping him upright and as Jack provided the ice, Pitch guided it to mold into the perfect shape. Once Jack was settled on the newly made mattress, he let out a happy sigh, curling himself in his quilt.

"Rest, child. I have to leave you, but I will stay until you fall asleep." And Jack did so, soothed as Pitch sang him one of his favorite lullabies. "Have you heard of the ghost of John? Long white bones with the rest all gone. Oo, wouldn't it be chilly with no skin on? John belongs in a quaint nightmare,wobbly jaw and a hollow glare. Oo, wouldn't things look murky through sockets bare…"

* * *

**A/N: **So if you aren't into Chinese history, I'm so very sorry, but Qin Shi Huangdi's burial palace is just one of the coolest things out there. There are pits of carved acrobats and a "river" with birds arranged along them, I read something about offices and pleasure gardens and when it was built it was so filled with wonders and riches that the artisans were actually sealed inside to keep people from going after them. Plus death traps.

It's just so fascinating to me.


	5. Spirits

**A/N: **Well it's been a while, so here's a super long chapter to make up for it! This act is nearly over, but this nearly tells exactly what the future holds. So here we go!

* * *

Jack had been terrified to learn that they had been sealed inside the tomb alongside the artisans, but they didn't seem to mind. At least, not anymore. When he had spoken to Mei about it, struggling to get to the river of shadows, she had explained it all very calmly and kindly.

"I had borne no son," Mei said as she helped Jack to the riverbank to watch the birds. "I had two daughters and with no son, I was to spend the rest of eternity with my Emperor. And here I am."

"Aren't you…aren't you upset that you had to die?"

"No, Jack. This place is the place between heaven and earth, how can I be upset at being assured such delight?" He shrugged slightly. He didn't really have any experience to judge either way. "The Emperor began this place when he was only thirteen, you know. It is by this that we have such a wonderful place to spend eternity."

"I suppose. I'd be a little upset to learn I was supposed to die."

"We all were at first. But given time we've all come to accept that this place is not a horrible place to live. It is beautiful, and we're so ancient now that humans fear to disturb us. It is a blessing, is it not?"

"Yes. Yes it is." Being seen by so many people, talked to and touched (even if they were ghosts or made of stone or metal), was a blessing that Jack was sometimes unsure if he deserved, given how many times he had disobeyed his treatment. But he had been feeling better, he really had recently.

He sat with Mei in silence for a long time, watching the birds move along silently, stalking for prey in the shadowy river. But as far as Jack knew, there wasn't a fish that swam within. "Mei?" he finally asked. "I was wondering, would you take me to the offices? I want to ask them something."

"If that is what you wish." And she did take him, leading him to where the scholars debated endlessly over this or that. Jack wondered vaguely if anyone got bored, but he wasn't yet and he didn't see why they would either, there was so much to do, and even more when you were well and could move about without help or getting exhausted.

* * *

When they arrived at the offices, all the men there bowed and greeted him as "Prince of Shadows" (which he never felt he would get used to). But Jack just held out his notebook to one of the scholars, a man bent and withered from age. "Will you look at this?"

"What is this?" the old man asked, taking it, a younger man coming beside him to look as he opened it.

"My notebook. I…I wasn't supposed to have it at all, but I've recorded much in there. You are wise men, I…I hope that you can help me understand what I've seen."

"Oh, Prince, I fear that we cannot read your language," the younger said, peering at the book. "We will require it to be translated so that we may assist you."

"Well I don't know your language. Would you…would you teach me to read?"

"We would be honored, Prince of Shadows." Jack, on the other hand, despised himself immediately. Writing and reading were too hard of work, he was forbidden strenuous work, it would hurt and not help, and here he was, asking to be taught to do both. How could he get better? Pitch had told him he was getting better and here he was, being naughty and not following the orders given to help him!

"You do not look well," Mei said. "Perhaps you should rest a bit." Jack nodded, and allowed himself to be led to his room, where the familiarity of the icy bed and shadowy quilt was. "Why are you so troubled? I can see it on your brow."

"I shouldn't be straining myself," Jack moaned. "I'm not going to get well if I keep straining myself."

"You simply agreed to learning calligraphy," said Mei gently. "That is not straining yourself at all. Especially since the Emperor, in his wisdom, decreed that there only be one character for each word."

"Why do you talk like that?"

"Like what?"

"Whenever you talk about the Emperor, you always say 'in his wisdom' or the like. Why?"

"We must always show respect for the Emperor. He is the place between Heaven and Earth."

"He ordered you killed!" Mei simply stared at him for a long time, and Jack looked away, uncomfortable under her unwavering gaze. "I apologize. I shouldn't have said that."

"I have told you, I am not upset about my death. I do not hate the Emperor. Now rest, child." And Jack did, his sleep devoid of dream, a sleep that ended to find him rested.

* * *

When he woke, Mei was sitting beside his bed, smiling at him and holding something. He peered at it, curious, but not wanting to be rude. "A message has arrived for you," she said with a smile, handing it to the boy, who opened it excitedly. A letter! Just for him!

And yet, when he opened it, he could not read it, for it was written in a strange language of intricate characters, and he had never learned to _read_ the language of the land the Emperor had ruled, he only learned to speak it and hear it. "I can't read it," he said. "Will you read it to me?" She took it with a smile and looked it over quickly before she began to speak.

"It comes from the King of Shadows, he is writing to you to let you know that he is unable to come visit and will as soon as—"

"No, I want to hear what he wrote." She looked up at him a moment before beginning again.

"'My dear boy,'" Mei read aloud to the child. "'I send this letter to let you know that I will be joining you as soon as I can. As I write this letter, it may be some time before I may join you. But that gives enough time for this to make its way to you. For this letter will not travel to you by a simple carriage or man, this letter will make an improbable journey to you.

"'This letter has traveled by way of shadows, by the passing off of the ladies Midnight and Midday, by the secret pathways of the Frozen Beards, in the tight grips of harpies and through the deep caverns of the cenotes to where the mermaids bring it to the caves where the dragons live and ponder, before the nightingale brings it to you in the Palace of the Emperor. Perhaps there will be a touch of magic to it, perhaps you will feel the warmth from being tucked within the feathers of the phoenix as it delivered the letter to the nightingale.

"'Nevertheless, you must never forget that I am always thinking of you, that no matter what the nightmares think I care for you very much. I will write another letter to you soon, I do remember hearing you once say that you wanted a letter. Something about someone thinking about you enough to send one and now you have received your first letter. I feel honored to do this for you.

"'Be content where you are for now, I promise I will be by you once again soon. Pitch Black.'" Jack was smiling a smile that was of naught but delight, and Mei found herself smiling as well, for he had been so sad before he fell asleep. The surprise message for the boy really had lifted his spirits.

"Do you think he'll come visit soon?"

"I do not pretend to know what the Spirits do, and the King of the Shadows is no exception. He promised to come as soon as he is able, I do not know when that may be. Yet we may hope that it is soon. Will you go to the offices? They are ready to begin teaching you."

* * *

The rest of the day was spent with Jack watching as they created character after character, drawing them in sand so as to erase and create new ones. He copied each one over and over again, his mind taking and storing and sorting each word and what it looked like and what it meant.

And even as his mind reveled in the exercise and stimuli, he was berating himself fiercely, such that he ended up just poking at the sand before him, not bothering to copy the character for winter. This was when the lesson stopped, and he waited for Mei to come collect him and help him to bed, because he needed to rest after this. He didn't want to do this anymore, he didn't want to disobey the orders designed to help him get well again.

Finally, someone came for him. But it wasn't Mei, it was one of the other concubines, Si. Si was a beautiful woman, and even though she was very opinionated and not afraid to argue her thoughts, the Emperor was fond of her. She hadn't had any children by the time she had been entombed and was still very much a child.

"Where is Mei?" he asked, looking up at her as he pulled himself to his feet, clutching his staff.

"Mei has been summoned by the Emperor, I have been sent to take you wherever you wish," she replied.

"I want to go to bed."

"Are you tired, Prince?" she asked, letting him lean heavily on her.

"I need to rest," he said instead.

"But are you _tired?_"

"No, but—"

"Then why are you resting? You are young, a child, you should be playing with the acrobats or something, not spending your days sleeping."

"I need to rest."

"If you ask me, you should be spending your time as any child should, playing."

"I'm not well! I'm sick! I'm sick and Pitch told me I need to sleep and rest and recover and I'm _not_ but I'm not going to get better if I don't! I'm writing and I'm not allowed to write!"

His violent response was met by silence, Si standing there, holding the boy upright and regarding him closely. Finally, she spoke, saying, "But you _have_ snuck some, yes? A little here, a little there."

"Yes." That one word spoke volumes though it was quiet, quiet enough that he could have thought Si didn't hear it, if she hadn't immediately responded.

"Why? What was _so important_ that you had to commit that great transgression and put it down on paper?"

"I don't know!" this was loud, trying to make her go away, as he had screamed at things that frightened him.

"It's a beautiful thing, writing. So permanent, so risky yet friendly…Did you punish yourself? Punish yourself for writing?"

"Yes," Jack said very softly.

"Why? _Why?_" He only let out a noise of despair, hands going up to grasp at white hair. Si took pity on him and said, "I will take you to bed, Prince. But please, do think about this. Writing is not something that is designed to hurt you."

And she did. He was settled in bed, his quilt of shadows wrapped about him, and let alone. Left alone. Left alone to think and think. And think he did. Si was smart, everyone said so and he had to agree. But she was also insisting that he go against all the rules he had lived by for so long. He had lived so long ignored by the moon and then suddenly it was tormenting him and he just wanted to know _why_ and he had to help translate his journal but he didn't want to disobey what Pitch had proscribed but _still._

He didn't know why he existed. He didn't know if he really did exist. He had met some of Pitch's friends in the earlier years, when he had first come to live with Pitch and hid himself in Pitch's robes when he got scared or needed to remember that he wasn't made of the mist that came off of too-cold water. He met the Ahuizotl that swam in the deep pools of water, he met the Boo Hags who told stories of the adventures they had stealing people's skins (he had kept very close to Pitch after that for a long time). They never seemed to worry if they were real or not.

The concubines and the emperor and the artisans, they knew they existed. They told stories of their families, of their children, they knew what they were. The soldiers, the acrobats, they knew they existed. They spoke of remembering hands tying up their hair, men humming as they helped them put on armor. They remembered being built. Jack couldn't remember anything from before the moon lifted him out of the lake and told him his name and then forgot to ever acknowledge him again.

And thinking about the moon led him into a spiral. These spirals he tried to avoid, because they always led to his panics, but he couldn't ever stop once he was in the midst of one. And now he was, thinking about all the times someone ran through him or threw something through him, all the times he heard people curse winter for this and that. All the times he had begged and pleaded for a reason he existed and got none.

He found himself hyperventilating and shaking horribly, but enfolded in a familiar embrace, the vibrations of soothing speech deep in the chest of the one who held him. It took a while for him to calm, yet once he did, he realized who held him. No one here wore clothes that were made of shadow, they all wore silks or linen, never this perfect softness that felt like cotton (which Jack had always associated with expensiveness and he didn't know why).

"Pitch…" he said, his voice a whine as he burrowed closer into the embrace.

"Yes, yes, I'm here. I'm here, my Jacky Boy. My snowflake, my dear boy, I'm here. You're not alone. I'm here, I've got you."

"The moon, it—"

"It can't get you here. You're safe here, it wouldn't dare touch you, not here. You are protected and safe and I promise I won't let anything happen to you." Jack curled into himself, letting his breath calm more and more, listening to Pitch sing softly to him. "Succulent biting and sucking to our desire, forever mark the Vampire Empire. Come have a taste of our vicious kisses, then drink, awake to the pulsing blood where bliss is. Undead, un-reflected, seeking a neck to bite, we shun the sun and hark the dark night. Don't cross us or pointed words from our lips will stab your gloat, your throat, ending in dripping sips." Jack, from where he was tucked, mouthed along to the words. He knew all Pitch's lullabies and loved them all. But still, he shifted and Pitch stopped his singing to turn to him and ask, "Jack, are you feeling better?"

"Yes," he said, his voice quiet. "I was just thinking and I got into a spiral."

"You haven't had a panic in a long time. You see? You are getting better." Jack didn't say anything, just rested his head against Pitch's shoulder. They were quiet for a long time.

"Will you tell me a story?" Jack finally asked, not looking away from where his eyes were tracing the intricate detail on the mural of the phoenix.

"What do you want to hear about? The Trojans again?"

"No. Tell me the story of the White Rose."

"The White Rose? Jack, you've just had a panic, that story is far too dark."

"Please?"

Pitch sighed but said, "Once, there was a family by the name of Scholl. They lived in the south of Germany. The family had five children, three daughters and two sons. Their names were Hans, Sophie, Elisabeth, Inga, and Werner." Jack sat there, listening closely to the story, the stories of Hans and Sophie Scholl and their friends. The story was very dark, yes, but he liked it. They had been so peaceful in their anger against their dictator. "Sophie didn't know what her brother had been doing at first. Not until she compared one of the flyers against the books her brother read. That was when she learned that Hans was the leader of the White Rose."

"And then she joined!"

"Not so quickly. She was very worried for her brother's life. You remember, their father had been arrested for speaking out, and her brother had once before, when he was just a teenager. To speak out against the Third Empire, it was not wise. But yes, she did eventually join her brother's quest."

The story continued, and as it did it grew darker and darker. But still, Jack loved how brave they were, how self sacrificing they were, how they acted for the good of all who lived under the Third Empire. "They were arrested," Pitch said. "They were executed. By beheading by guillotine. At the trial, Sophie was very brave and said to those who were condemning her, 'You know as well as we do that the war is lost. Why are you so cowardly that you won't admit it?' And as the blade fell to kill Hans, do you know what he said?"

"Let freedom live!" Jack said. Hans was his hero, after Pitch of course, and he remembered Hans' last words like he did all of Pitch's sayings and stories and games.

"Yes. And later, one of the pamphlets was smuggled out of the country. As the planes of the enemy flew overhead, they released thousands of copies raining down. There is no escaping what the White Rose did, even if the Third Empire tried to hide it."

"They were heroes."

"Yes. The Orthodox Church has even canonized Schmorell as a New Martyr. And there's a place called the 'Scholl Siblings Plaza' after Hans and Sophie."

"Pitch? Were you there? Did…did you ever see them?"

"I did, once. For all their power, the politicians were scared of them. They were in custody, but they were not scared. They were always so brave."

"So you don't know Sophie's last words."

"No. No, I do not. I'm sorry, I cannot clear up that bit of confusion."

"I don't like the one about how their heads will fall too. I don't."

"So you prefer 'God, you are my refuge into eternity?'"

"Yes. I don't know why, I just like it a lot more." Pitch's smile was that fond one, the one that was the only smile he smiled under the mountain, and he drew Jack close.

"You are a kind hearted boy. A very brave, very kind boy."

"I wish I could be as brave as Hans, sometimes. He wasn't scared of anything. And I have panics over the moon."

"The moon has been cruel to you in a way that Hans didn't experience. If he had been in your situation, I'm certain even he would have been prone to panics over the moon."

"You're sure?"

"Of course." Jack smiled, closing his eyes. They sat in silence for a long time, Jack tucked against Pitch and happy. "I was talking to Likho," Pitch said, breaking their contented silence. "You do remember Likho, don't you?"

"She's the old woman with the one eye. Like the Cyclops!"

"Yes, like the Cyclops. I mentioned to her that you're staying here, and she offered to take you in. The Emperor is kind but perhaps you'd prefer not to stay in an over glorified tomb?"

"I like it here," said Jack. "Besides, Likho just skulks around that church in Poland."

"Her sanctuary used to be nearby there."

"And I don't want to have to go with her. I'd rather go with the Topielce."

"Jack, those spirits_ kill things._" His voice was hard and worried, that was the voice that happened if Jack was falling into a distressed mood.

"They liked me." Jack knew, he really did, but they had been so kind to him when he had dropped by in the past. He thought it was because he had been born from a lake, and it made sense. Plus, they shared their food with him, he got to take a waterlogged squirrel to eat. He had told Pitch of that event and he had sworn that Jack would never have to eat animals like that again.

"Perhaps, but it isn't fitting for you to associate with murdering spirits."

"Likho has killed people!"

"Only in the _stories_. She hasn't drowned anyone. Jack, I know that the Topielce were kind to you, but you are a boy too good for them. They are only kind to their own. You were born from a lake, they mistook you for that moment. Don't go back, they might realize their mistake."

"Yes, Pitch."

"You won't go with Likho will you?"

"No, Pitch."

"You need a good nurse. Someone to watch over you."

"I've got Mei. And Mei's good."

"Mei is only a human, dead or otherwise. She doesn't understand everything there is to know about you."

"I don't even know everything there is to know about me."

"Jack, that leads down a bad path."

"I know." Pitch sighed again, but just let Jack rest against him.

* * *

Pitch's visits became more and more often after that, but he still had to leave and that made Jack sad every time. He would always ask Jack what he was doing, and whether he liked it. He even came once while Jack was learning from the scholars, and merely smiled and started to draw his own characters beside Jack.

"You're not mad?" Jack had asked, eyes wide.

"If you feel well enough to take on learning to read and write this language, I am happier than any other," Pitch assured. "Now, that is not at all how you draw 'general.' Here, let me show you." Jack had a grin on his face the rest of the day. Pitch didn't know about the journal, and he didn't think he'd ever tell him, but now he was _allowed_ to read and write, he didn't need to punish himself for it anymore. How wonderfully freeing it was.

Soon he was getting very good at the language, now that he wasn't holding himself back. The scholars had provided him with ink and paper and he was beginning to translate his journal for them, and they were teaching him to read their own texts. One of his favorites, also one of the few they let him read, was "The Art of War."

"I don't recognize this," Jack said, pointing to the two characters that started out the book. "I don't think I learned these words."

"Oh, no, those are not words," assured one scholar. "That is a name. Sun Tzu. He is the one who wrote this book. I do apologize for the confusion, Prince of Shadows."

"No, it's alright." And he set to reading again, having to ask for help on a lot of words, but really becoming quite decent at the language. The Emperor even called Jack to him, and he stood there, reading it aloud, stopping and stumbling, but doing it very well, all things considered.

"You began lessons just a few days ago, did you not?" the Emperor said when Jack announced he had only practiced that far and would be stopping.

"Yes, majesty."

"And you managed to learn enough to read that much of Sun Tzu's writings?"

"I suppose I did. I always mastered languages in a few days, though."

"That is very impressive. There were many who never learned to read or write when I ruled Qin." Jack merely nodded.

* * *

Pitch came to visit later that day, when Jack was telling the scholars and Mei about how the Emperor had praised his ability. Pitch listened with a fond smile on his face, and said, "I'm very proud of you. The emperor praising you."

"He said I was very good!"

"I wonder at what."

"The scholars are teaching me how to read these," Jack said proudly, picking up a scroll. "This one is called 'The Art of War.' I read it to the Emperor and he said I was very good!"

"I remember that one. Sun Tzu, yes?"

"Yes! It's very interesting. The Emperor says that he based his government off of this."

"He did. Very strict laws in those days. He still enforces them in this city."

"Really? I haven't noticed anything like that."

"Oh Snowflake. You are viewed by these people as the Prince of Shadows. These laws do not touch you. You also have the advantage of never hearing of _Kong Zĭ_ or _Lǎozi__ and __Zhuangzi_."

"Who?"

"Varying philosophers, they all preached different styles of government," one of the scholars said. "Our Emperor, in his wisdom, decreed that their philosophies were not appropriate."

"Oh. Should I know their ideas then? So I can really understand the Emperor's choice?"  
"Unnecessary," said Pitch. "You are already pushing yourself very far. Perhaps at some point I will provide you with those texts, but not for a long time. Legalism provided safety and a sound government." Jack simply nodded. And then he seemed to catch how Pitch was standing and frowned.

"Did you get hurt while you were gone?" he asked.

"Not badly, Jack, you needn't worry."

"No, you need help! Mei, is there anyone who can help?"

"We have no doctor, but a servant might be able to—" the woman cut herself off when Pitch held up his hand, bowing her head a moment in recognition of his order.

"Jack Frost…" but he didn't continue for a moment, looking at the officials and the concubine who bowed and left the room together, leaving the Bogeyman and the bringer of winter. "Jack, if I hurt myself, you don't need to worry."

"But _who_ hurt you? Why would they?"

"Jack, it's not your job to worry about me."

"But—"

"If I tell you, would that make you happy?" Jack nodded. "I told you that you would be believed in soon. I am working on that. But there are those out there who don't want you or I believed in. One of them controls the sand that came for you."

"The thing? The thing that turned into dolphins?"

"Exactly the same. Jack, you must understand, they aren't malevolent, but they are very stuck in their beliefs. I have the nightmares under control, but you must stay here because of these other spirits. If they knew about you, they would harm you."

"What…what did they do to you?"

"Being thrown from the sky does not offer much in the way of soft landings, Jack. I'll recover soon. Why don't you read to me? I can help you learn this language."

Jack looked overjoyed at the idea and unrolled the scroll happily, starting at the beginning. "'Sun Tzu said, the art of war is of vital importance to the State. It is a matter of life and death, a…a…a _road_ to either safety or to ruin. Hence, it is a subject of…of…'um…"

"Inquiry," supplied Pitch. He knew this text by heart, but he was not going to keep Jack from this small pleasure of showing his newfound knowledge.

"'Hence, it is a subject of _inquiry_ which can on no account be neglected. The art of war, then, is governed by five constant factors, to be taken into account in one's…deliberations." They went on for some time, Jack proud of his skills and Pitch happy that Jack felt well enough to take it on. After they reached all that Jack could do, they sat in comfortable silence for a long time before Pitch spoke again.

"The Wili are fond of you, you know."

"I know," said Jack.

"And they've come to me a few times recently, saying that they'd take you in for a spell. You could stay on the clouds with them, they said."

"And then they'd try to dance me to death. They always do."

"Always?"

"I tried to avoid them after the first time. I mistook some of them for Vilia once and then it happened again. Berehynia saved me."

"She's gotten strong again, you know. Berehynia. People are worshipping her as a goddess again." Jack smiled. She had been nice and it was good that she was doing well. He just wished that _he_ was doing well. "And I doubt that the Wili were attempting to _kill_ you."

"You weren't there."

"Perhaps not, but I know the Wili. And I know that they don't attack spirits. They just wanted to dance with you."

"But I don't want to dance with them. I don't like dancing."

"You never complained when Mei dances."

"Because I like _Mei._ And she's never made _me_ dance." Pitch smiled. "Can we go watch the acrobats?"

"If that's what you want." And off they went, Pitch carrying Jack as they went through the shadows to the hall where the acrobats tumbled for the Emperor himself. "Well met, majesty."

"Well met, King of Shadows," the man replied. "Will you join me?"

"We would be honored." And the three sat there, watching trick after trick, Jack easily the most enchanted of them all, gasping at each impressive flip and applauding at each and every stunt.

It was a long time before Jack grew to be tired, but it did happen and he began to drowse, struggling to keep his eyes open. "I think it's time I take you to bed," said Pitch, picking up the boy and bowing his head to the Emperor. "Majesty."

"Take your boy to bed, King of Shadows," he replied. "He is a very remarkable boy."

"He is. Until we meet again." And he took Jack to bed, the boy settling into sleep easily.

* * *

Pitch and Jack were having tea with Mei, the concubine telling Pitch all about the things that Jack had done since Pitch's last visit. Jack was just trying to puzzle out the tea for the hundredth time. It wasn't like real tea but it was at the exact same time. He honestly didn't know what to make of it. Either way, the food was in the same state and it was all very tasty, just a little puzzling logically.

"You took him to meet with the generals?" Pitch asked.

"Not myself personally," Mei was assuring. "But your boy did express an interest whilst with the scholars and a servant escorted him there. He came back telling us all about how he would be a great army general someday."

"I will," Jack said. "When I'm strong. I'll be a great general and everyone will know who I am."

"I'm certain they will," said Pitch with a smile. "You are studying The Art of War, after all." Jack grinned back at Pitch, and Mei went on to explain that the Emperor would be holding a day to watch the horsemen do tricks and how he invited Pitch. "If I am able, I will come."

"Please come," begged Jack. "Please."

"We will see."

The day passed like this for some time until Jack and Pitch went together to the gardens, where Pitch named all the flowers that grew there, pointing them out and giving the names. "That is the Plum Blossom," he said. "And that is a chrysanthemum. That's an orchid, and that plant, that is bamboo. Those four plants are called the Four Gentlemen or The Four Pure Ones."

"They're beautiful," Jack offered.

"Everyone else thought so too. The name only appeared during the Song dynasty, that's a good thousand years after the Qin. Don't tell the Emperor." Jack smiled. A secret, he'd never had anyone to keep a secret from-this was new and exciting, just like that letter he got. "That is the tree peony. In the lake, that's a water lily. Those are azaleas, there's a lotus, do you see the yueji over there?"

This went on for a long while, Jack starting to drowse somewhere along when Pitch was pointing out the narcissus and the rhododendron. "Jack," said Pitch, rousing Jack from his doze. "I was thinking. Would you like to go with Gan Ceann?"

"Who?" he asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"A friend of mine. He's Irish, and has a few believers. His heyday was back in the dark ages, much like myself, and he's promised to look after you."

"I've never heard of him. Is he nice?"

"He's…a rather neutral party, but he's a bit old fashioned."

"Old fashioned can be good. The Emperor is old fashioned even though I've been talking to him about what the world was like last I saw it."

"The Emperor was born over two thousand years ago. Of course he's going to be rather old fashioned. But would you like to meet Gan Ceann?"

"He's your friend, so I'd like to meet him."

"And if you want, you can travel with him. He drives a cart, you can just sit in the back and rest."

"But I don't know if I like him yet." Pitch smiled, wrapping an arm around the boy, pulling him into an embrace as he led him through the shadows, away from the Palace's beautiful gardens to the place between places, slipping into a shadowed grove in a place that was waking up from a winter sleep. There was the sound of a cart rolling along the ground and Pitch called out,

"Well met, Gan Ceann!" There was a strange laugh in reply and Jack peered to where he could see a figure coming. He knew that Pitch's friends tended to be rather terrifying and had prepared himself to not be frightened, because he had been scared of the Funayūrei but they had turned out to be quite nice ("But if you get in a boat, we'll steal you for our own!" one had said and everyone had laughed).

But still, it was strange to be outside where the wind blew and the sun was just going down. And it didn't do much to help his level of ease, even tucked against Pitch's side. And seeing Gan Ceann…well…

Gan Ceann had no head, instead a hideous one in a horrible grin stared at him from under the creature's arm. He rode a horse, holding a human spine that he used to whip the horse along. Behind him was the cart Pitch had said, wheel spokes made of thigh bones, it rattled like death itself. In the back, it was lined with a pall cloth, and the horrible head cried out, "Well met, Pitch Black!" Its voice spoke of death and pain and blood and Jack clung even tighter to Pitch. He didn't want to judge but he was getting scared.

"Calm down, Jack," Pitch said. Of course he could tell that he was scared. Of course. "Gan Ceann isn't here for you."

"Here for someone? Does he eat people like Ahuizotl? Does he drown people like the Topielce?" the questions came pouring out of Jack's mouth like water from a nearly drowned boy's.

"I kill," Gan Ceann said. "But only very specific people. When I come, they can't escape me."

"Can't…"

"Doors open for him and locks will unlock when he approaches," Pitch clarified. "If he calls your name you drop dead." And now Pitch saw that this had not been his best idea. Gan Ceann was a good man, they had spent ages together, even kicked his head back and forth in a game of ball a few times, but Jack was sensitive, prone to distress and was shaking, hiding his face against Pitch's side. Both Pitch and Gan Ceann could taste the fear rolling off of him and they met eyes (this was rare, mind; for Gan Ceann's eyes were never still).

"Perhaps," said the Irish Death-Spirit, "it would be best if you took Jack to rest."

"Yes, yes that might be best. I will see you soon, yes?"

"We of the dark always hear your call, Pitch Black. We are very interested in your venture. Call and I will ride straight to you." Pitch inclined his head, the dark shadows swallowing him and Jack, taking him back to the boy's room in the Emperor's palace.

"I'm sorry," Jack muttered. "I'm sorry, I know he's your friend but just…"

"You were frightened. That's fine," assured the Bogeyman, letting Jack climb into his lap. "Gan Ceann is of my ilk, he frightens people. You are more suited to the Barbegazi."

"The frozen beards."

"Yes. You know, there was once an avalanche near where I was, for nightmares of freezing or parents lost in snow are always needed in those places, and I saw the Barbegazi digging a poor travelling couple out from the snow. Set them to rights, even took them to a cottage where they could warm up and spend the night. They didn't hear their warning whistles."

"I don't much like other winter spirits. But I like them. Pitch?"

"Hmm?"

"I…I heard Gan…Gan…"

"Gan Ceann."

"Yes, I heard him say something about those of the dark? That they're interested in something?"

"We have to keep ourselves entertained, Jack. When each one of us are slowly being written off as nothing but _bad dreams,_ we have to do something." Jack nodded, safe again in Pitch's arms, deep under the ground where he wouldn't be faced with anything bad. "How are you feeling?"

"I don't like Gan Ceann, Pitch. I don't like his cart either. Or his whip. Can I just stay here? You said that we could live here, can't I stay until you can join me?"

"I'm sorry. Of course you can stay here, I'll not press you to leave again, I promise. I thought you would want to leave." Jack didn't say anything, just pressed himself closer, head tucked under Pitch's chin. "I'll send for Mei, have her bring you some tea. It will help you sleep." How he managed this, Jack would never know, but soon enough Mei arrived, a servant bearing a tea set. It was set on the table and she poured the tea, passing it to Jack. He didn't leave the safe embrace, but did drink all of his tea. With the warm drink inside of him, he immediately grew sleepy, the heat battling against his natural chill and warming him wonderfully from the inside out.

"May I have a dream?" he asked as Pitch tucked the quilt about him.

"What would you like to dream about?" he asked.

"Being a hero. Like Aeneas or...or the Three August Ones."

"Three August Ones?"

"Mei told me about them. And…and the Five Emperors."

"I've never heard of them. Will you tell me when you wake?" Jack's only reply was a humming noise. He fell silent, eyes closed and breathing deeply, likely asleep. That was when Pitch straightened and turned to Mei. His voice was heavy with some unidentifiable emotion as he said, "I would love to give him a dream, Mei, but there are none left."

* * *

**A/N: **So now you know where we are in regards to the film. Now it's time for a spirit rundown

Lady Midnight: A Slavic spirit, she is paired with Lady Midday

Lady Midday: alternatively called Pscipolnitsa, is a woman who appears to farmers in the middle of the day holding shears or scissors. She poses a riddle or engage them in conversation. If someone fails to answer a question or changes the subject, the curses them with heatstroke.

Topielce: malevolent Slavic spirits, they drown any creature that comes near their home. They are close to the Rusalka in that regard, but they kill during all times of the year whilst the Rusalka only murders during Green Week.

Likho: A Slavic spirit, she's an old woman with one eye. Stories say that she'll haunt someone and climb onto their back. Whoever she was on would go mad and jump into a lake trying to drown her but die themselves. Likho would get up and find a new victim. Her ancient sanctuary was right nearby where the current day Basilica of Our Lady of Licheń is in Poland.

The Wili: Slavic creatures that live in the clouds. They dance people to death, famous for their appearance in the ballet "Giselle"

The Vilia: Slavic creatures that control storms and often send them over travelers

Berehynia: The Slavic goddess of the home. Following Grand Prince Vladamir of Kiev's decision of a state religion of Christianity, she was no longer worshiped, however neopaganism is worshiping her once more.

Gan Ceann/Dullahan: An Irish death spirit. He is virtually unstoppable, though he is petrified of gold. To show him even a gold pin sends him fleeing.

The Funayūrei: Japanese spirits said to take the shape of young women who drowned at sea. They will approach a boat and ask for a ladle. If they are given the ladle they will fill the boat with water until it sinks and more victims are found.

Ahuizotl: An Aztec monster that lived in or near the water and ate human fingernails, eyes, and teeth. However, it would eat the whole person too.

The Three August Ones and the Five Emperors: fantastical rulers of China, they were all associated with gods and goddesses and taught humanity valuable skills or ruled with benevolence and compassion

The White Rose: a student group in Bavaria during WWII. They were led by Hans and Sophie Scholl and were all arrested and guillotined for acting against Hitler. Schmorell was a student in the group. The bill for their executions was sent to Christoph Probst's widow.

_Kong Zĭ_: Better known as Confucius, he developed Confucianism. During the Qin dynasty, scholars of this school of thought were buried alive or burned alongside the books. During the Han dynasty, it became popular again and has remained the main school of thought in China

_Lǎozi and__Zhuangzi_: Together, they are traditionally associated with the creation of Taoism, chiefly known for the belief that all humans are naturally good. Taoism has never been overwhelmingly popular, but there have been a few Emperors and Empresses who took strongly to it.

Sun Tzu and "The Art of War": Sun Tzu was the author of "The Art of War" which was immensely detrimental to the legal systems of the Qin Empire. Legalism was what was in use, and that implemented strict laws and punishments, because it believed humans were naturally evil.

the Four Gentlemen: A tradition of four plants associating with the four seasons that came about during the Song Dynasty. Orchid was the spring, bamboo was the summer, chrysanthemum was the fall, and the plum blossom the winter.

Kudos if you read this far.


	6. Flight and Discovery

**A/N: **And here we finish Act 2 and begin Act 3. There were parts of this one that were difficult to write, but I'll leave whether it's good or not up to you. Yes, I did borrow the idea of "Our Land" from the movie Hero, but that's beside the point.

* * *

Jack was sitting beside the Emperor, watching as the parade ground was set up for the equestrian show. It looked like it would be wonderful, but Jack's mind was twisting and turning, the shadows of it over his face.

"And what are you thinking of?" asked Shi Huangdi, looking to the boy.

"He's leaving again," moaned Jack, watching as two of the soldiers set up another beautiful tent. "I hate it when he leaves."

"He is the King of Shadows," Shi Huangdi said, placing a hand on Jack's shoulder. "He cannot stay here forever."

"I wish he could." There was a moment of silence before Jack suddenly blurted, "I heard him say that there are no good dreams left."

"None in the whole world?"

"I don't know. But I…I asked him for a dream and he said he would try and I think he thought I was asleep when he told Mei that there were none left."

"Why does this distress you so?"

"You don't _understand_, Majesty. You have no need for dreams. But I always asked for dreams, asked if I could dream about this or that and now what? Now I've used up all the dreams in the world and it's my fault. I've only had one nightmare in my whole life. And now that's all there are left."

"Jack…" at this, the boy looked up at the man. He didn't like to call Jack by name, there was no one here who had a name at all similar to Jack's. To call him by name was an honor. "The King of the Shadows, he…When I was alive, many tried to kill me. I knew this since I was very young. I became king at thirteen years old, yes king for in that time it was merely the kingdom of Qin and I defeated the six other kingdoms to become Emperor, and I began construction of this palace at that time. But throughout my whole life, even after my sons and daughters were born, assassins came over and over again trying to kill me. No one was allowed within one hundred paces of me, my tailors had to guess and measure from a distance to make me clothing. They always over estimated my legs." Jack smiled at that. "But each time there was an attempt at my life, I always suffered nightmares. They never quite left me, Prince of Shadows. And yet, I found it to be that dreams do not always come in the form of visions in the night."

"But what other type is there?"

"In my case, it was 'Our Land.'"

"Our Land?" Shi Huangdi looked at the boy beside him with something approaching fondness, if given time.

"Yes. What was to become my empire was nothing but seven kingdoms, each fighting the other for dominance. Qin, Han, Wei, Zhao, Qi, Chu, and Yan. Many had died, and many more would continue to die. My dream was to unite them into one great Empire of Qin. And I succeeded. But this dream was simply, to me, Our Land."

"So if _I_ come up with a dream…then there will be dreams again?"

"I do not know if it is the same for spirits, Prince. But if it is as you say and there are no more dreams, than any dream will repopulate the world." Jack nodded. "Do you have a dream?"

"Maybe. I'll come up with one. I think so." The Emperor nodded and turned, going to see one of his concubines and Jack _really_ didn't want to think much about that so he simply stayed and watched the parade ground continue to be set up.

* * *

And for the rest of the day, Jack tried to figure out his dream. It was a strangely difficult process, and he spent a lot of time sitting and thinking whilst Mei practiced her dancing. She was singing and spinning, delicate footwork the focus of her practice, yet Jack wasn't even watching her, nor the musicians or the other women playing _their_ instruments, he was twisting his mind over himself. This was a first, mind, as he usually thought long and hard about how the tea and food worked in this place or about the moon and why it insisted on tormenting him.

He did a lot of thinking. About what he wanted, about what he thought, about what _Pitch_ wanted and what _Pitch_ thought and the world last he had seen it and the world as he had first seen it and all the children he had wanted so badly to play with and how they couldn't see him and all his emotions.

Mei asked him if wanted to go anywhere a few times over but he never even acknowledged her, instead thinking deeply about this and that and all that went with it. Sometimes he thought he was coming close to a dream, but then he thought "No, no, that's not a dream. That's just a goal" and had to move on. Through that, he moved past Getting Better, Understanding the Visions, and even Belief.

When he had bypassed Belief, he had to stop all thought and focus on that and that alone. But yes, he found, he didn't want _belief_ like all those men and women lighting candles and singing and praying believed. He just wanted to be seen, to be known, for the children to play with him. Thinking about being believed in, it didn't stir much within him, but the idea of being seen by the children, the idea of the moon acknowledging him, the idea of having a _place in the world_, that was what stirred emotions as wild as tempest inside of him.

And yes, he found that the desire for a _place,_ a Place Of His Own, that was what he dreamed of. Even when asking to dream, he asked to have a place in the games of children, a place as a great hero, a place like every spirit he had met knew their place. "Yes," he thought. "Yes, that's a dream. That's most certainly a dream."

Exhilarated by his discovery of his dream, Jack told Mei all about it, explaining how it was very different from being believed in, and she smiled and said, "It's very good that you have found a dream."

"I want to tell Pitch. Do you think he'll come to see the horses tomorrow?" he asked.

"I do not know, child. He said he would try and we must not hold him to anything more than trying." He nodded, but he still hoped with all his might that Pitch would be there, so he could tell him all about his dream and how the Emperor had told him that he shouldn't worry, because dreams didn't have to be visions in the night so he didn't have to worry about not being able to give him a dream because now he had one of his very own.

* * *

The next day held the equestrian show and even as Jack sat to drink tea with the Emperor, he was nearly bouncing with excitement. He could walk a bit on his own now, and that excited him. He had never seen an equestrian show before, and that excited him. Pitch might be arriving soon, and that excited him. He was just very excited and he hadn't felt this way in a very long time and that made him giddy.

And yet, the first riders rode out into the parade ground and Pitch was not there. The next set of riders, the ones after them, and yet Pitch still was not there. This continued for a long while and while Jack was amazed by the ability of the riders and applauded each trick or move they executed, part of him was just wishing that Pitch was there beside him. His giddy, excited state dampened, and if the Emperor noticed, he said nothing.

The day carried on in this way, with a break for a dance performed by a good dozen of the women. It was beautiful, yet Jack just wanted Pitch to be there with him. He understood that Pitch had a job balancing out hope, wonder, and formerly dreams, he _did_ but there was that selfish part of him that just wanted Pitch to be there with him.

He looked down at his hands as the next round of riders emerged, and sighed. He shouldn't be this selfish, he knew that but—

"Jack?" the boy looked up. Who was calling him? No one called him by his name here, but who else could call his name? "Jack!"

The voice was so familiar. He knew that voice, but there was something wrong about it. It was killing everything. He pulled himself to standing with his staff, quaking as he watched as the stone horse lost animation and life, the other riders and horses doing the same. The spectators vanished into nothingness, evaporating like mist under the sun, even the Emperor vanished. The leather of the harnesses and saddles rotted away just as fast as the wood.

Soon he was the only thing left, the only thing that moved and the only thing even close to alive. And yet the voice kept calling him, frighteningly familiar. "Jack! Jack!"

"I know that voice…" he muttered to himself, following where it called. Through hallways where he had to slip through shadows where it had caved in, and there were more than normal, following the calling of that he was so curious about.

Finally, the voice led him to his room, where the phoenix mural looked just as fragile as it would be to a human, to a mortal if they managed to find their way inside. But the _voice_, the voice was crying out from underneath the bed, calling again and again, "Jack? Jack!"

He slid slowly to his knees clinging to his staff, peering underneath. There was a hole there, and that was familiar to him. Pitch had told him of those, the passages under the bed, in the closets, sometimes in the most frightening of basements. These were the ways home, they opened in the darkest shadows, in nights where a nightmare roused the smooth oceans of sleep to storm. Jack wasn't sure if this was a nightmare, but it was his way home and he'd take it happily.

Carefully, very carefully for all the wood was disintegrating at a simple touch and he was scared that he would just curl inside the ice and not bother investigating the voice if the wood bed frame destroyed itself should he touch it, he climbed into the hole, sending his staff through first and then falling through himself. For Pitch was a lot of things, but he wouldn't hurt anyone who willingly sought him out, at least until he knew why they came.

* * *

It was honestly good to be home, he could feel the difference immediately. Wind moved through here, it swirled around him as if happy to see him, still as if it was holding a secret. What that secret was, Jack didn't know and wasn't sure he'd ever know. But it caught him in its secret hold and helped him fly, it took him out of the entrance into the vast shadowy _home_ Pitch lived in.

There were so many rooms, some that looked as if they were meant to hold hundreds or thousands of people, with room to dance included. He used to explore and explore and always find new rooms, but these were his favorites, as well as the places that looked vaguely like courtyards someone forgot to finish. The wind was taking him through all of them, following the voice through walkways and places that looked like they could be gardens if you tilted your head, squinted, and imagined.

Finally the wind set him down in the middle of the largest of all the halls, the one his room opened directly into. This was where the voice had come from. And yet Jack forgot all about the voice, seeing what was before him.

Below the walkway he had stumbled along just a few months ago were mountains upon mountains of golden objects, above him the very cages he had seen before were filled with terrifyingly bright and colorful creatures, and upon seeing him started making noise that Jack flinched away from, loud and foreign and so much like the music in the place of song he had seen in a vision.

"Jack!"

It was the voice. Ignoring the creatures best he could, Jack turned his attention to the continuing echoes of the voice. It simply echoed around the room, with no origin so far as he could see. And then he saw Pitch, walking along one of the processionals ("Processionals?" Jack had asked, looking curiously at them. "They look like bridges to me." "Bridges, you say. Nevertheless, they are processionals," Pitch had said, his voice growing strangely sad and angry). Pitch would know what that voice was, why it had killed everything in the Emperor's City.

The creatures in the cages continued to squeal and chirp and make all sorts of noises and Pitch looked up, annoyance clear on his face even so far away, yet upon seeing Jack, he slipped into the shadows and emerged before the boy, concerned yet shouting to the creatures, "Be quiet or I'll stuff a pillow with you!" The image made Jack smile, yet it was a fleeting thing, for he was confused and frightened, just a little but, just enough for the nightmares to take a vague interest, just enough for Pitch to feel his fear. "Jack," Pitch said, his voice the same as when Jack was beginning to fall into his moods, concerned and kind but very worried. "Jack, you are supposed to be with the Emperor. Are you alright?"

"I…I don't know. I'm confused. About a lot of things. I just… Pitch, what…what is all this?" he asked. "What are those creatures? What are _those_ things? Why are they here?"

"Jack, I am simply doing my job, spreading fear."

"No! Your job is to keep people safe! Your job is to balance out the world! This _isn't_ your job!"

"And what do you know of what I do? You are a very sick boy, you should be resting."

"I've been stronger! I _have!_ I'm not tired all the time either! I got here all by myself! Pitch, I heard a voice calling me and it killed everything in the Palace! What was it? Why was it so familiar to me? Pitch, I don't want to be kept in the dark anymore, please, tell me."

"If you want humans to believe in you, _this_ is what must be done. They believe in the _Guardians_ and their _Seelie_ and they will _never_ believe in you or me or anyone else unless we do something about it. Jack, I'm making a world for you."

"Why this way? Why do they need to be in cages? What _are _they? Pitch, I'm better now and I haven't been spending ages in bed! Were you…were you trying to keep me from getting better?"

"I've taken care of you for two hundred years! Two hundred years of hiding you from the world and watching nothing work! The Rest Cure was proven, I'm _so sorry_ that I didn't keep up with medical journals! You were supposed to get better! And then the _Man in the Moon_ decided to name you _his, _the absolute gall of that man! He demanded I gave you up, do you think I would let you into their hold?! You were still _screaming at shadows!_" And then Pitch looked at the boy. He hadn't been confrontational, he had been confused and distressed and look at how Pitch had reacted. Jack looked as if his world had been turned to ruin around him, he looked as if a child had run through him, he looked like he just wanted everything to go back to normal. And he absolutely reeked of fear. Not fear of the fairies, not fear of the shadows (he had never been afraid of any shadow Pitch could control) but fear of Pitch himself.

Jack had never once been afraid of Pitch. Never. Not even in the early days when he had tiptoed around the boy trying to figure out how to help him and how to soothe what Jack had described as a crying thing in his head and a wailing in his bones. In the early days, Jack had simply gone to hold him when he had grown distressed, held him tightly and didn't let go. Now, now Jack was backing away as Pitch stepped forward. He had frightened the child.

"No, no, Jack. Don't be afraid. Not you. Anyone else, damn it, _everyone else_ may be scared of me and abandon me, but not you. Never you. Please Jack." But the boy would have none of it. He didn't know how to make it back to the Palace, and part of him was disgusted at the idea of going back to a tomb. He didn't want to stay in Pitch's realm either. It seemed that the wind that used to pass through his fingers like a secret felt his distress, for he was plucked up and whisked away.

* * *

There was no way to describe what Jack felt inside. He felt horror and sadness and fear and hurt and a thousand other emotions. All he could think about were all the times that Pitch had been kind to him, all he could think was that he hadn't deserved Pitch's kindness, not a single moment of it.

But he just curled into himself, clutching at his staff as he let the wind take him where it will. The wind knew him, and it took him to places colder and colder, until it gently settled him in his own element, in ice and snow, with nothing but the sound of winter around him. This was familiar to him, but barely a comfort against his loss, it was nothing against the immeasurable sadness within after losing all he had known to be safe and kind.

"I want to freeze," he whispered. It took saying this aloud to realize that yes, that was exactly what he wanted to happen. He wanted to freeze, he wanted to be swallowed by the ice and to stay within it for thousands of years, until perhaps this bit of ice broke loose and he drifted through the oceans. Maybe he could simply sink and spend his days in the icy bottom of the ocean. Or maybe he could just lay here in the snow, and hope and hope that Pitch would look for him, that his blue tailcoat would be visible and he would just pick him up, enfold him in his cloak and tell him that everything was alright, that he could go back, that Mei was wondering where he was and they could sit in the gardens together again, that he'd tell Jack a story, any story he'd like, even the story of d'Artagnan or of the Scarlet Pimpernel.

He would be settled in the embrace that felt like home and safety and family and he would listen as Pitch told him of how the Cardinal was plotting and how the Lady de Winter and Athos used to be married, how Porthos and Aramis joined Athos to make the three musketeers, who served Queen Anne and King Louis, how the Cardinal wanted a war and d'Artagnan had to join with his friends to prevent such a thing, fighting their opponents bravely and sailing stormy seas.

He'd listen as Pitch wove the story of the man who saved countless people from unfair deaths at the hands of the Madame (Jack would smile at how Pitch never liked to call the guillotine by its name, but instead always by "Madame" as if it was a living woman) and how a man pursued Lord Blakeney to kill him himself, how Lady Marguerite assisted her husband and they hid his true nature so no one would accidentally help his enemy find him.

After the stories, when Jack's mind was running wild with desires of dreams of sailing beside the Lord Blakeney and giving Citizen Chauvelin the slip at every turn, of adventuring with the gracious and beautiful Lady Marguerite, of dueling the Lady de Winter, of riding beside d'Artagnan on the king's missions, that was when Pitch would send him to bed, asking what he wanted to dream of and singing him to sleep. One of those chants from the ages before he was born, they always soothed him to sleep so quickly, giving him such a contented feeling of peace. That's why he had hung around the churches the first hundred years, even when he feared staying through the nights for seeing the moon.

Jack, perfectly aware that these were nothing but illusions, started to cry. He just wanted it back, his home, his safety, his half-way family, he wanted Pitch back, the man who was basically a father. And soon his tears turned to sobs, which settled after a very long time to sniffles, soft distressed noises that slowly faded to exhaustion and a simple desire for sleep. He hadn't had to rely on himself for comfort in so long that he had forgotten how, he didn't know how to soothe himself anymore.

And it was this exhausted state that prevented him from doing anything at all when he felt large hands pick him up. He just held his staff tightly, not wanting to be without his only source of comfort now that he had left his only home, now that he was encountering something so strange and different.

Jack was in a state between consciousness and dream, unsure if the hairy chest he was nestled against was real or a hallucination. He hoped it was real but also wished nothing more than oblivion inside ice, a darkness that would be even the slightest bit like home, even if Pitch couldn't reach him there. It was a conundrum and Jack was more than happy to let himself allow this situation to take its course.

But when that course caused him to enter a building (he could tell because the wind wasn't swirling and it was _warm_ as it had been _warm_ in Pitch's embrace, as the outer soldiers had been _warm_ after a day of human scrutiny), he looked about. The way he was being held he couldn't see much, just that whoever held him was easily ten times thicker than Pitch and twice Jack's height, covered in a coarse brown fur. He could hear noises growing louder and louder, sounds of working but muffled. It was as though no one wished to make much noise, instead favoring silence.

Jack had no real desire to twist himself about and see what was there—it wasn't the Emperor's City, it wasn't Pitch's Realm, and therefore held no interest to him—and so he simply closed his eyes and allowed himself to be carried. As he was, he was brought up staircase after staircase, up to a place where it spoke to someone; the language deep in its chest just as some of Pitch's lullabies had been.

"Out in the snow?" a new voice said, confused. And he was being removed from the coarse fur, held out. He was _so tired,_ though, and didn't want to open his eyes and so lay there with his eyes closed as he was picked up by very human (if very large) hands.

He opened his eyes at the sudden familiarity, strong arms holding him against a warm body clothed in soft clothes that felt like cotton (which felt expensive to him, always had). But instead of the familiar sight of Pitch, it was instead a man of red and white (_redness of blood, whiteness of paleness)_. Letting out a cry, he began to struggle, trying to get away, but he was weak and the man was strong.

"Calm down, child!" the man said, his voice deep in his chest. The vibration reminded him of the lullabies, of safety, and he calmed just a moment. And that moment was enough for him to be settled in a chair, the man of red and white before him, hands heavy on his shoulders. "You were out in the snow."

It was an obvious statement, but Jack couldn't even bring himself to nod, his breath simply coming quicker and quicker in terror as he stared at the man before him, all red and white and black and just as he had seen in that horrible vision, greater than his own frame like a mirror. His eyes flicked past him and there, rushing along the ground, just as red as the man, were the creatures of song, music ringing from them as they scampered together in groups. Beyond even those creatures were great furry creatures, one of which had carried him in. They were gathered in a small group, and beyond them he could see so many more.

His eyes flicked to where a great improbable creature stood, holding a piece of bent wood and Jack knew, he _knew_ that this creature had existed in his vision of the spring, the ruler of the little flowers and the budding trees. But it looked like some sort of twist of nature, a creature that shouldn't exist, not by any rights, for rabbits looked as it did, but it was too great, too large, and no rabbit had those patterns.

There was the woman of a thousand colors too, though her joyous song of the universe that Jack remembered was not being sung. There was no song, none but from the creatures that sang around their feet.

He quaked and cowered, curling himself about his staff best as he could, knees curling to his chest and toes wrapping about the wood. Even though his tears had tired him, he could feel the desire to flee rising inside him, and tears were welling at his eyes when he realized that no, he couldn't move, not with the man of red and white holding his shoulders like that, forcefully, unkindly.

"Why were you in the snow? Why were you so close to here? Who are you?" the man was asking, his voice hard. Jack's eyes had focused on the swords he kept by his sides though, and couldn't take his eyes off of them, a quiet whine escaping his lips as he stared at the gold handles. Faintly, he thought that Pitch's Irish friend wouldn't like them at all. "Answer me!" the angry shout made Jack's eyes lock back onto the man's face, utterly terrified of the anger he saw there. "Who _are _you?!"

"Jack," he gasped, not wanting to be hurt by this man like he was certain he would be. "I'm Jack Frost." There was apparently some recognition to the name, for the heavy hands grew lighter, and the other two looked more curiously at him.

"That tailcoat, that's got to be from the nineteenth century," the woman said. "Have you been under the snow that whole time?"

"No," he said, still just wanting to get away and if answering their questions would allow him to do so, he'd answer any questions they had. "No, I just-the wind brought me here."

"The wind?" echoed the great improbable creature. Jack merely nodded, feeling the tears press harder against his eyes, frightened by all that was around him. Still, he bit his lip, determined to be brave. He would be brave like Hans Scholl, he would be brave like d'Artagnan, he would not be scared even as he saw that all his visions had become real. "Where did the wind take you_ from_ Jack Frost?"

The boy trembled yet again, and said, "The Emperor's Palace." He was so scared and if they thought he came from there maybe they'd send him back. And Pitch could find him there. If not, he could still stay and learn the instruments Mei and the other women were going to teach him.

"There are a lot of palaces belonging to emperors," said the man of red and white, staring down at him.

"He's dead. It's underground, his tomb."

"Shi Huangdi's tomb," murmured the woman of colors. "That's neutral ground."

"Neutral?!" echoed the creature. "It's anything but! Pitch laid claim to that place, that's Unseelie country!"

"The Emperor swore to us he'd stay neutral! He'd welcome both courts!"

"The Unseelie are underground, that palace is ripe picking! Why was Jack Frost there?" And the two turned to Jack, who had curled into himself while they shouted.

"Jack…" the woman said softly, "Jack, will you tell us why you were there?"

"I don't know who you are!" he burst out, and immediately covered his mouth, staring with fright at them.

"He's right. I'm the Tooth Fairy, my name's Toothiana, but you can call me Tooth. And that's Bunnymund, the Easter Bunny. And that's Nicholas St. North, he's Santa." And though she was gentle in saying it, there was definitely pride behind each title and Jack couldn't help but wish that he could have pride in saying he was this or that. "But why were you in that tomb?"

Jack licked his lips, uncertain, but said, "I was sent there for my protection. I was, I _am_, a victim to my own mind. I was told it was hysteria and mild depression. Part of me isn't certain anymore. But my caretaker found that his power over his own domain was growing weaker. He sent me away until he could recover, and even then he only came to visit. It was horrible every time he left. He used to sit with me every day and then it became brief visits. I wanted him to stay. He promised me we would live together in the Emperor's Palace and then…"

"Jack," the woman called Tooth said, "What…What is your protector's name?"

"They called him King of the Shadows, the Dark King. He allowed them to pass through shadows when their tunnels and roads collapsed. That was how they could reach some of the rooms. The Emperor respected him, he even bowed to him once, I saw him do it."

"His _name_," said the creature called Bunnymund. Jack looked up at them. He didn't want to say but at the same time he did. Maybe they'd return him.

"Pitch Black." And if his name made them curious, Pitch's name sent them into a fury.

"North, your yetis brought _the Fearling Prince_ into one of our strongholds!"

"How are yetis to know?!" roared North. "No one has seen Unseelie Prince!"

"Prince? I don't understand…" said Jack, too confused to even flee as he was no longer restrained. Those in the Emperor's City had called him Prince of Shadows but he had thought that was just because he was Pitch's ward, but these people he had never seen or spoken to were calling him Prince as well. He just didn't understand. "What's an Unseelie?"

"As if you don't know!" the creature said. "You're one of _their_ kind! You're a traitor! You were _born_ for our Court and you abandon us for those underground monsters!" the shouts directed at him were loud and frightening and he never liked loud noises outside of Pitch's stories when he would put on voices and say in his best Percy Blakeney voice, "Look at this limp cravat! And the sad state of those cuffs! I can hardly bring myself to look at them!" or when he had made his voice deep and booming and said, "No One is hurting me! No One is blinding me!"

But seeing as none of those gathered around him were Pitch telling the stories of either the Scarlet Pimpernel or Odysseus, Jack reacted as he always had to things that scared him. He tried to scare them away by screaming. Pitch had _always _come and held him and made what scared him go away, and Jack just wanted that but he knew it wasn't going to happen, so he just kept screaming.

* * *

Toothiana had not expected the boy to start screaming like that. If anything, he had looked ready to cry more than scream, but he was so obviously distressed and his hands were fisting on his staff and _screaming_. She was not envious of North or Bunny or the elves, because ice was making its way across the ground and freezing their feet so they could not move them.

But the boy was screaming and screaming, barely pausing for breath. He was nothing but a child, and his screams made her so very upset. The wind was knocking at the windows, and as soon as she went to him, embracing the boy, the wind stopped, satisfied. The boy's scream cut off with a gasp, dropping the staff and clinging to her.

"You really don't know what's happening, do you?" she murmured, a hand reaching to stroke his hair. The shake of his head gave her plenty of answer. "Well, Jack, I'll see if I can answer your questions, alright?" He just clung tighter, shaking in her arms. And if Biegkegaellies wasn't content with _that,_ then she'd just have to get that Sami God to actually start talking to the boy he liked so much himself. He and his brother may be recluses, but there was a limit to how much she could listen to the God speak about the Unseelie Prince in such praising words and accept that he didn't want to speak to the boy for this or that reason.

Slowly, Jack calmed himself enough that he wasn't clinging and he wasn't screaming. He was just sitting there, a bit dead eyed. He was absolutely terrified but he had lost all energy. The equestrian show felt like it had been years and years ago, but Pitch's angry words felt like just seconds prior and simultaneously ages in the past. He was so exhausted he couldn't make himself act on his terror beyond a frightened moan when North picked him up, carrying him to a bedroom, laying him on the bed. Jack fell asleep quickly, grateful for the rest.

Without a word, the Guardians looked at each other and nodded, returning to the globe to discuss what had happened, what twist of fate brought Pitch's ward and heir to them and why he was the way he was.

* * *

On the other side of the world, Pitch Black looked up at the moon with a furious scowl, every inch the Unseelie King facing off with the Seelie King. The two courts had always been unfriendly, but when the Man in the Moon declared war on him and his court, it had changed everything.

"You Seelie scum," he whispered. "My Prince was weak, and you just _took him?_"

_I have no control over the Gods, the wind brought _my Guardian_ to his fellows._

Pitch had spoken the language of the moonbeams for as long as he could remember, and the statement the Seelie King gave did nothing but infuriate him more. "Your Guardian? _Yours?_ You _abandoned _him! He suffered for one hundred years until I found him! He still suffers, nothing can undo the damage done to him that first century."

_I tried to—_

"Trying! Because trying has done him so much good!" he let out a sharp breath and said, "I am bound by the unconditional surrender you forced on me. I cannot rally my court to war against yours. But my nightmares are ready. They will take the place of the army you've denied me. And when I have the power you stole from me, the time of the Unseelie will be at hand." And he slipped into a shadow, disappearing underground.

He couldn't rally his court to war, but he could take care of them, and waging war by himself was the only way to do it, it seemed. They would be powerful once more, no longer forced into that shame of a surrender, he would no longer have to try to feed his people by going hungry himself time and time again. The Unseelie palace would be filled with life once more, he would walk along the processionals with the appropriate ceremonial guard, and Jack, his prince, would walk beside him, with the Unseelie bowing before the crowning jewel of their victory, a beloved prince the Seelie had abandoned. Final proof of the Light Court's corruption.

The Forbidden Palace would thrive in a way it had been denied since the Seelie held him at knife point and listed what he and his court would have to agree to in this unconditional surrender, since they sheared the hair of all the Unseelie and demanded they keep it short, humiliation for so many of them, a source of agony for the Gorgons. Yes, Pitch would have his revenge and when the Unseelie ruled again he would sit on his long neglected throne and tell Jack that the Moon would never touch him again, that he never needed to fear again, for the most frightening people in the whole world were protecting him now.

Honestly? Pitch couldn't wait.

* * *

**A/N: **Biegkegaellies is the Sami god of winter winds. I don't know, I just don't think the wind is sentient.

So yeah, Seelie and Unseelie, courts. The Seelie are the benevolent fairies, they live aboveground, while the Unseelie are the malevolent fairies, they live underground. However, the Seelie can be jerks and the Unseelie can actually be pretty nice. So that's plenty to work with.


	7. A Change in the Game

**A/N: **In my defense, I tried to stop this monster, but it just didn't want to stop. Also I've been recently been obsessing over "Song of Exile" by The Blessed Blend so deal with it.

This chapter includes many more spirits and we'll have a rundown of them at the end. As for the war, that will be explained clearer later, I promise. Jack just didn't want to hear the story and couldn't understand it so it's not happening here.

* * *

The Seelie War had ravaged the Unseelie's stronghold. Until Jack had started to bring some of his brightness to the empty husk of the Forbidden Palace, the only things that lived there were Pitch and the Nightmares, and Pitch hadn't spent much time there. He had spent most of his time traversing the globe, spreading fear to children and adults to the degree he could, and tending to his court. That was what he did now, making certain that none were outright starving before he attacked the Seelie.

It was an exercise in pain to make these rounds to his court, to see the Topielce fighting tooth and nail over a drowned squirrel to eat, watching sadly as Dhegdheer tried to close her hand around the arm of her prey only to have it walk away, not even noticing her attempts. It hurt to see the dark elves, once a proudly trooping race forced into solitude, fleeing each other when they were in a group of more than three, terrified that the Seelie would know and hurt them and their children again for disobeying the surrender. And yet, when his ancient court saw him, they would greet him with broken smiles, maybe bow as they would have if they had stood before him in the Forbidden Palace, and accept the alms he brought them.

Most times, the alms he had brought was nothing but a bit of food, a piece of meat, maybe a piece of fruit if he could. He had been so careful of Jack and what the treatment prescribed, and it was difficult to make certain of food for the innumerable numbers of Unseelie that traversed the world, solitary and suffering. But this time, this time he had alms that seemed impossible just fifty years ago.

"My king!" greeted one of the Ponaturi, a spirit who remained deep within her cave, far from the sun that would kill her if it touched her. She scrambled to her feet and bowed deeply, Pitch's heart breaking for the way her knees trembled from hunger. "It is an honor."

"I have brought you something," he said, reaching into the folds of his cloak.

"Food?" The hope in her voice was torturous.

"Better." At her confused look, he pulled out a golden tube, and held it out to her. On the end was an image of a small girl grinning. "A bargaining chip."

"These are memories!" gasped the Ponaturi. "Human memories! Is the girl alive?"

"I don't know. But the Seelie will do anything to get these back. Show them you have it, and you can partake in the fruit of their gardens."

"You mean…the…"

"If the Unseelie can do anything, we can trick people. They'll do anything to get that back, just trick them into giving you some food. That bargaining chip will keep you safe and fed far better than my leadership could."

"My king, you are a kind ruler, no one could ever care for his court as you do." She bowed again, the ceremonial motions of the hands not quite right after so long in isolation.

"See that you get a good meal in you. I have more to deliver." And he left her, the Maori spirit anxiously waiting for sundown to go feed herself the food that she had been denied for so long. This was how it went, taking memory box after memory box to his ancient court, watching as they bowed over and over again in thanks, kissing his hands and swearing that no king could ever measure him.

To think, all it took to earn the love of the Unseelie court was to assure them food.

Soon, the only remaining memory box was that of Jack, his Jacky Boy, his beloved Snowflake, his Fearling Prince. It was the one he had made certain that he always knew the location of. It was the one that started to call out with a little girl's voice, laughing and calling for Jack. It had called out over and over again, seemingly summoning Jack with its call. And then he had frightened the boy away to be snatched up the Guardians.

He would rescue the boy, of that he was certain. And he would find out why the boy's memory box had called out to him. If he had to interrogate those little Tooth Fairies about it, he would. They couldn't fly anymore and he was growing stronger. He had the advantage, even if they were Seelie and ranking in court.

Still, he would have liked to have Jack safe before he waged war. It was an impossible wish, and Pitch was perfectly aware of that. But he resolved to take the boy back from the Seelie into his arms, to protect the spirit that he had named his own.

* * *

At the North Pole, Jack had climbed under the bed, curled into himself and wishing he had his quilt made of shadows and frost. It was left on his bed in the Emperor's Palace, and he wished he had it. But he wasn't able to retrieve it and wrap himself in its familiar weight, instead he had to simply wrap his arms about himself and hope that those people the moon had forced vision upon vision of on him didn't show up.

This time, he wasn't playing a game, hiding under the bed. This time, he was actually very frightened and didn't want anyone to find him. He lay there, his eyes closed and drifting in and out of wakefulness, until the door opened and his eyes flew open from his doze, fear poising his limbs to run away. He could see a pair of big black boots entering, they were the ones the one called North wore (but he was always going to be the man of red and white to Jack). Now he grew even stiller. The man had swords, and Jack knew perfectly well what swords could do.

But following was one of the creatures of song, the tiny living thing that emanated music wherever it went. This time was no different, scampering along with a beautiful song even as the man of red and white exclaimed, "Ippolitov-Ivanov!" and ran out, dropping a tray covered with food and a now shattered glass of milk. The creature of song remained though, running to the food with an excited look on its face. But, as it broke off a bit of bread, it saw Jack lying there, staring curiously at it.

The two were silent for a long time before it grabbed the tray and tried to drag it over, managing to after a few minutes. It then picked up one of the cookies and scampered over to the boy. Jack was actually rather touched that the tiny creature of song was trying to feed him, but that melted to disgust as the elf started to lick the cookie, covering it with its saliva before holding it out.

"No, no, I don't want it," he said. The small creature frowned and turned, rushing back to the tray to bring over the bread, doing the same thing, licking it all over before presenting it to the boy. "No. You licked it, why would I want it?" The tiny thing stomped it's foot and sat down, looking very upset, and if Jack wasn't mistaken, those were tears in the little creature's eyes. "No, no, don't cry." Merely parroting the things that Pitch had calmed him with was all Jack could do for the creature of song, but it seemed to be working. "Come here, I'm sorry. I promise you'll feel better soon." And the creature, looking up at him, scrambled over to where Jack was curled, settling happily against his chest, comparing the bell atop its head to the buttons on Jack's tailcoat. But Jack didn't really see this, just wrapping his arms loosely around the creature and beginning to hum.

"Land of freedom, land of heroes, land that gave us hope and mem'ries," he sang, remembering how Pitch had once sung this to him when he had been distressed over the moon as so many times he had been. This song had calmed him, sent him to sleep, but he had asked about it and Pitch had grown very sad and simply told him to get some sleep. "Hear our singing, hear our longing, we will go home across the mountains. We will go home, we will go home. We will go home across the mountains. We will go home, we will go home, we will go home across the mountains…"

The creature stilled against him, and Jack took that to mean that it wasn't upset any more, but when he stopped singing the creature hit a tiny, tiny fist against him, making him smile and continue, his voice becoming choked with memories of Pitch's singing of this. "Land of sun and land of moonlight, land that gave us joy and sorrow. Land that gave us love and laughter, we will go home across the mountains." He continued singing, not noticing as more and more creatures of song approached, joining him under the bed, beginning to nod their heads in a way to aid the melancholy tune. He only stopped singing when the bed that had sheltered him moved, lifted by one of the giant furry creatures, the three terrifying people he had met the night before staring down at him. Surrounding him were the creatures of song, tucked against his chest or sitting on his side, at least one on his head.

He grew very, very still, staring up in fear while the creatures on him all started excitedly gesturing and climbing off of him. But the one that was curled against his chest walked straight up to the great improbable creature, stomped its foot and pointed at the food and then at Jack. The rabbit like thing called Bunnymund looked confused and said, "He didn't eat?" more gesturing continued, the other two and all the other creatures of song focused on that one.

"He refused once you licked it?" muttered the man of red and white, before turning to look at Jack, who wanted nothing more but to hide again but was held in place by that piercing blue stare. "Why would you refuse?" Jack remained silent, his left foot beginning to shake uncontrollably from the terror that coursed through him.

Jack felt like he had been dropped into a pit of scorpions. Hold still and they won't sting, move and they will. And now he couldn't stop moving his foot and scorpions stung movement.

"What were you singing?" asked the woman of colors—Tooth. She was on the ground, though he knew she could fly, and he was unreasonably grateful for that. Still he was silent. The creature of song ran back to him and started to tug on his hair, making him look at it. It reached out to touch his nose, giving him a very earnest look and then pointing to the three that stood there. When Jack continued to look scared, it pressed a kiss between his eyebrows. The icy spirit gave what was likely one of the weakest smiles he had ever given, and it died quickly. Still, he cradled the creature close as he sat up, letting the musical being sit on his shoulder as he stared up at the three before him.

"Pitch didn't tell me what it was called," he said softly. "I asked him. He got sad and didn't want to tell me. There were a lot of lullabies he didn't tell me the names of or where they came from."

Bunnymund outright snorted and said, "Lullabies? Pitch Black singing lullabies?"

"Not all the time. Just when I got upset, when the shadows the moon started to look like things, Pitch would make them go away. He'd sing me to sleep only when I got really upset." He was still very scared, but the creature of song holding onto his ear helped in more ways than he could really say, and when he wrapped his hand around the staff, he felt safer, but not nearly as safe as he had felt in bed in his room or anywhere in the Emperor's palace.

And his foot still hadn't stopped shaking, but a few other creatures of music were sitting on it now, and watching them laugh at such a high pitch it was almost impossible to hear, it helped calm Jack slightly.

"Bunny, you're scaring the boy," said the woman of—Tooth. She then knelt and smiled at him, saying, "I promise we're not going to hurt you, you don't need to look so scared." And after a moment she let out a gasp with a violent shiver, a few feathers falling off of her body, slowly falling to the floor. Looking at them she let out a quiet moan, at least until Bunnymund touched her shoulder.

"We'll turn this around, Tooth. Easter will make them believe again," assured Bunnymund. But Jack frowned up at them, his hand reaching up to touch the little creature on his shoulder.

"Believe?" he murmured. "People believe in you?"

"Used to anyway," said Bunnymund, a snarl making his snout ripple. "Until _Pitch_ started taking that away." Jack was silent. He wanted to be left alone. "And now you're here. How did you get here?"

"The wind took me. I got scared and Pitch was shouting, he _never_ shouts at me, and the wind took me away. Then I was brought inside."

"And what was he shouting about?" Jack pressed his lips together and shook his head. He fell silent once more. But at least his foot had stopped shaking and now the little creatures of song were sitting atop his legs again. The one on his shoulder gave his ear a squeeze, and he let out a breath.

"I was scared and confused, there were these _things_ in cages and mountains of these gold things and I accused him of not taking care of me. He was right to be angry, he's only ever done the best he could do for me. He said he was making a world for me." He bit his lip, hands reaching to cradle the creature on his shoulder, holding it close and feeling its little arms try to wrap around his neck. "I want him back. I don't want to be here."

"Making a world," repeated North, the other two looking at each other. "Jack Frost, you stay here, in this room. Yetis and elves take care of you."

"You're…you're leaving?" the hope in his voice would have thrown them for a loop, had they not known that he had lived with Pitch for who knew how long.

"Phil, keep Jack Frost here. Easter is tomorrow and will try to save it." The giant creature nodded, and the other three left. The creature looked down at Jack, who was letting the smaller creatures climb all over him, his hands still cradling the first.

It then sat down, tilting its head. Jack copied it, looking at it and trying to figure out what it was. Then it turned its head the other way and Jack coped it once more. It continued to do this, and soon Jack realized, the creature was playing a game! Smiling he lifted a hand, waving. The creature did the same, and when it leaned one way, Jack did the same. The small creatures on him were watching, giggling almost too high to hear as they tumbled off of him as he leaned from side to side, but giggling all the same and Jack couldn't help but smiling.

After a long while of this simple game, a few more little creatures came in, helping carry a tray of food. They set it down in front of Jack and went to the others as Jack reached for what was brought for him. Milk, some cookies, a thick stew, and a loaf of bread all for himself. He couldn't eat all of this, no matter if he had to eat. So, he drank the milk and ate as much of the stew as he could, and two cookies before he looked at the little creatures playing little games amongst themselves, but that little creature that had first come to see him, the little one who had tried to keep him okay even as he sat terrified between those three horrifying people, it was nestled against his ankle, watching the others.

Jack, unable to eat more but with so much more in front of him, ripped off a bit of bread and dipped it in the stew, reaching to brush the small creature with his pinky finger, making it turn to him with a very serious little expression on its face. He smiled and held out the bit of bread to the small creature, who looked at it very curiously before looking up at him with a bright smile, embracing his wrist before taking the bread and running to show its fellows.

As he watched it go, he noticed that there was a little pattern of frost on it's strange red clothes, and he smiled. The other creatures of song all turned to him, running to him and smiling up at him, pushing to get closer to him, but they let the frosted one through, watching as it climbed onto Jack's knee and looked up at him, holding up the bread and then gesturing to the others around.

"I was going to share, you don't need to look so angry," said Jack, pulling another bit of bread off. The large creature (Phil?) let out a huff that sounded like a laugh as the smaller creatures clapped their hands and jumped up and down, trying to form a line but making just more or less a long clump. Soon each little one got its own piece of bread, happily devouring the food. Jack then looked at the large creature and offered the rest of the bread silently, but it just huffed and shook its head.

Before long, the creatures of song were done, but came back for more, so Jack simply passed them the rest of the bread and the large bowl, watching as they helped each other get more of the food. The small frosted one climbing to sit on Jack's knee, apparently conversing with another. Then it suddenly jumped up, grabbed his finger and started pulling. "Hold on, Little Guy," said Jack with a smile. "I'm still not very strong, I can't go anywhere."

Little Guy stared up at him before turning and rushing to Phil, pointing at Jack and speaking in a voice so high Jack could barely hear the noise, let alone understand the language. But Phil could evidently hear and understand, so he lumbered to his feet, going to Jack and holding out a hand, his deep voice rumbling something. Jack looked up at him and then down at all the creatures of song around him and finally to Little Guy, who was grinning up at him, nodding vigorously before holding up its arms to him, like a child wanting to be picked up.

Jack picked up Little Guy, settling him on his shoulder before putting his hand in Phil's. The large creature helping him, and surprised him by swinging him to sit on his shoulders. Jack squeaked with surprise as he was swung up but he laughed once settled, keeping his staff in one hand, watching with a smile as the little creatures followed behind Phil as he strode out of the room.

From his perch on Phil's shoulders, with large hands holding his legs steady, Jack felt horribly exposed but oddly safe. Little Guy was speaking to Phil, who carried Jack past busy rooms and into quiet hallways, to where the creatures were sleeping or where smaller versions were playing. Jack was set down among the little ones, who looked at him curiously but invited him into their games.

Though their invitation was lighthearted, Jack still felt tears well in his eyes. He was being asked to play by children. Not human children, but children all the same. He had tried so hard to play with them the first hundred years of his life and now they were asking him? With a watery smile he went to where the soft fuzzy creatures and tiny little ones that didn't ring with music as they walked were playing and sat among them. Little Guy was being embraced by four smaller ones that all had his same ruddy red nose and Jack smiled because those were Little Guy's children and he was being trusted to play with them.

The voices of the children were even higher than that of Little Guy and he could only barely realize they were speaking at all, and he felt horrible that he couldn't hear or understand them, but he simply smiled and tapped the ground with his staff, willing the ice to create small figures of the people he had heard about in the stories Pitch had told him. The tiny creatures took them and ran off to play with them, while the large fuzzy children came closer, one taking his arm and insisting he come. Jack was still weak, but he could move enough to play just a little bit of their simple games. And when he couldn't move, the wind would lift him up and move him.

They played together for a long time, until Phil, who was watching them, stood up and murmured in a deep voice. The children looked at him, but sighed and obeyed, going to what Jack supposed to be bed. One of Little Guy's children, a little girl, ran over and gave her father a kiss on his cheek before rushing away. Jack smiled, and let Phil pick him up again, carrying him back through the halls to the room Jack had been in, back to the bed he had hidden under.

Phil tucked him in, Little Guy sitting on his pillow with one hand resting on his forehead as if to keep guard over him as he slept and there was no words to express how grateful Jack was that he was being protected from all the terrifying things around him. He fell asleep quicker than he expected, Little Guy's hand smoothing over his eyebrows.

* * *

Jack was woken from his sleep by the sounds of shouting, and for a moment remembered that horrible moment when Pitch had sent him away because the nightmares were going to attack him, but he was surrounded by the small creatures of song, Little Guy standing beside his head as if to protect him. Phil standing beside his bed in the same way.

And when the door opened to a furious Bunnymund, Jack was grateful for his many protectors around him.

"You!" snapped Bunnymund. "Your _caretaker_ just destroyed hope!"

"He doesn't destroy hope. He balances it. He's the balance in the world, why would he tip the balance?" But then he remembered something Pitch said when he had been angry. Ignoring Bunnymund as he continued to shout, Jack thought very hard. _They believe the Guardians and their Seelie and they will never believe in __you or me or anyone else unless we do something about it. Jack, I'm making a world for you._ "Making a world for me. That's what he meant. He's tipped the balance so that I can be believed in." Realizing that, he let out a giddy laugh, one that he hadn't laughed in a very, very long time. "I need to go find him!"

"Oh no!" snapped Bunny, his big paws pushing Jack back down, some of the little creatures disturbed from they stood or sat. "You're not going anywhere!" At that, Jack turned to him, eyes wide. He had never had anyone tell him that he _had_ to stay. Pitch had told him what the rest cure was and what that entailed and Jack enforced it upon himself with reminders. He wasn't used to this.

"Bunny, let the boy go!" said Toothiana, entering with a fierce look on her face. "Jack hasn't done anything!"

"He's going to find Pitch!"

"He's still an innocent in this. We do not hurt innocents." She was helping along North, who was using his sword as a cane, and Jack couldn't help but think that he was grateful that it meant that he couldn't be hurt because without it the old man would fall over.

"You hurt people?" breathed Jack, frightened by the idea that he was unwillingly in the custody of those who hurt those around them.

"Only bad people," assured North.

"But what makes a person bad? Is it who _you_ think is bad? Is there someone who tells you who's bad? Is it someone who disobeys you or their parents or what?" Apparently no one had ever asked them that, and they looked a bit confused. "Pitch always tells me that you need to know all sides of the story, because if you only know one side you'll chase the monster through the woods, but if you know the other side you'll invite it in for tea." They looked at each other, still looking confused, so Jack tried to explain it for them in clearer terms. "It's sort of like the Greeks and the Trojans, isn't it? I only heard the stories of Cassandra and Paris and Astynax and Aeneas and I thought I hated the Greeks, but then Pitch told me the story of Odysseus and I learned that I was wrong. Does that make sense?"

"Yes…" said North slowly.

"Pitch has perverted his way of thinking, you can't deny that!" said Bunnymund, Toothiana hushing him.

Jack was confused at this, but Phil reached down and touched his shoulder, soothing him and making him forget whatever had been said. And when Little Guy started to show Jack how if he shook his head it made the little bell atop his head ring (now that Jack looked closely he wondered how he had ever thought it was anything but a bell), Jack ignored the frightening people in front him in favor of watching Little Guy and all the others ring their bells to amuse him.

Still, he knew those he had seen so many horrible visions of were still there, and he was still frightened, but he was focused on Little Guy and the others. Maybe Little Guy could come with him when he finally fled this place.

"Jack, stay here," said North in a very strict voice, making the boy look up as they left, leaving him with his new friends. And now that they were gone, Jack could go and find Pitch!

"I won't stay," he said to those assembled. "I really like you. I like all of you a lot. But I won't stay. They scare me." Phil nodded solemnly whilst the little creatures rushed to him, all grasping onto his tailcoat, wanting him to stay. "I won't. Imagine that you were taken away from home and you had to stay there even if you didn't want to. You'd want to go home too, right?" they nodded, little bits of music ringing out. "So I'm going home."

As he grabbed his staff, he felt something and looked to see Little Guy climbing into one of his pockets, settling there and staring up at him as if daring him to make him leave. "No, Little Guy, you have kids! You can't leave them." Little Guy shook his head, pointing to himself and then to Jack. Then he pointed to a female who had been sitting near him. She waved and gestured between the two of them and then made a rocking motion. "Is she their mother?" They both nodded vigorously. "And you'll take care of them?" she nodded. "I suppose you really want to come, then, huh Little Guy?" Little Guy nodded, and Jack smiled. "Okay." The woman rushed up to Little Guy, and they pressed their noses together fondly, but she let him go.

Jack stood and all the little creatures waved goodbye, their voices almost too high to hear and in a language that Jack didn't understand, at least not yet. Jack, grasping his staff, made his slow way to the window, helped by Phil, who opened the heavy thing. He growled a farewell, a hand stroking his hair twice before he gestured to the window. The wind was swirling and as Jack climbed onto the windowsill, he could swear it held a question in its gusts.

"Take me home," he said, and immediately was snatched up, speeding away from the buildings in the vast icy land.

* * *

All across the world, as children stopped having good dreams and children started to stop hoping, there were thousands who felt a rush of power that they had long forgotten. Parents who sat with their children in crevices in rock walls, teaching them stories of the old days and the religion that they adhered to, they suddenly looked up, breathless laughs escaping them. Young spirits and creatures looked up and wondered to themselves; "What is happening?"

The Tompte were cowering in their cupboards in Sweden, letting out quiet whines as they could no longer help children as they always had, and across the world, the giant Losi was joyous that he could play his tricks without his father and uncles punishing him for his association of the dark court. And as he prepared his canoe to sail back to the court that had welcomed more than the Light Court, he laughed, "_Fale-taeao e le afiafi!_" Who sits at home in the morning will not eat in the evening!

From the skies dove the harpies and the Adze (still as little floating lights for the moment), and together came the Svartálfar and the Dökkálfar in their elegant processions, a little out of practice for having to leave the world entirely under the eye of the All Father, but Odin had smiled and let them return to the court they thought was most like home.

Word spread like wildfire all around the world, all the same phrase; "The Unseelie can return to court!" And the numbers that raced to the Forbidden Palace matched that of those who were forced into an exodus from it. They found the Forbidden Palace in a sham state of how they left it, but they remembered the Fearlings, the dimwitted but vicious shadow creatures that had always slithered through the shadows, whispering and hissing to each other. The Fearlings were still there, and that at least was familiar.

Gan Ceann was giving rides on the back of his cart, and many climbed in to be taken home, excitedly chattering about what life would be like once the Unseelie could hold their heads with pride again. It had been far too long.

Soon, the Forbidden Palace was filled with Unseelie, the dark Elves were spinning in waltzes through the ballrooms laughing with delight, the courtyards were overflowing with couples courting that had been denied seeing each other due to that damned surrender that prevented trooping outside families, and the gardens were already being tended to by Púcas (not _Pookas_ those were all dead).

Soon their palace would be flourishing again, with their powers restored to full ability the Forbidden Palace would be just as darkly splendid as it had been millennia before that thrice damned war took the name of the Unseelie Stronghold _far_ too seriously. The red gold was shining once more, the obsidian and onyx decorations set into it standing out where it had once been just a black mass.

Medusa and her sisters were repairing the statues that had long been crumbled or broken, holding arms back onto the torsos they had been smashed off of and Medusa's gaze repairing them. It was trickier where they had weathered with time, but they slowly repaired them.

"The soil is gritty, but it's done nothing but rest," a Púca was saying, grinning down at the soil that was left in the gardens. "We'll have trees growing here in no time. Someone talk to the Boo Hags, they might have some seeds for voodoo lilies, we could plant them now."

"I don't know if they have voodoo lily seeds, but I heard that Hun-Came and Vucub-Came are going to come here, and I know that Mictlantecuhtli can get us saplings of the Devil's Hand Tree," said another excitedly. "You know Mictecacihuatl has always been fond of us and our king."

"The Lady of the Dead is a good woman," agreed a third.

And even still, they gathered together in the Great Hall, standing on processionals and on ledges, each watching as they relit the Dark Fire, the beacon that led all Unseelie back home. It burned with black flame, a curious light emitting from it, but a light that they had dreamed of seeing once more. It was lit by a bit of flame that had been kept by the stronger spirits, hidden in charms and tucked inside stones and now burned, filling out the hollow globe that showed their domain and that of their natural enemy.

And then, from atop one of the highest processionals, a spirit began to sing. It was a very simple song, but it was filled with so much agony that all those who heard it sympathized. "My child, my child! O my child! Would that I had died for thee! My child! O my child!" And those around joined until the Forbidden Palace was filled with the echoing painful cries of a million spirits all crying out to their long dead children.

For all they had done to restore their palace, the hidden depths where the nurseries had once lain, the places where their beloved children, the human children they loved as much as they loved the children switched to be saved by baptism, and the rarer children of the dark elves that had come to court from Svartálfaheimr, the children that their King had deigned to visit at every chance, a strange fond sadness in his eyes as he watched them…the nurseries had been attacked just as the rest of their palace had when the Seelie ended the war and now they still laid untouched for no one wanted to approach the site of so much heartbreak.

Parents had rushed to save their children and found corpses in their stead, the Al, their protectors, holding the bodies of the newborn and weeping bitterly over them while one of the Seelie stood over them. Stories told of a father who rushed at the warrior shrieking, "You call yourself a guardian of children, and you just slaughtered them! There were _human_ children here, the ones you swear to protect! My _daughter_ was a human and you killed her!" the father was killed for his trouble.

The Al were now taking children back under their protection, assuring parents that they would not fail and they knew they wouldn't, so long as the Seelie didn't ravage their palace once more.

It surprised none when it was learned that Lamia had started the lament. She had lost all her children because of Hera and her grief had never tempered. Her curse to eat children had done naught but torment her over the years, and she was often heard crying out from hunger and her efforts to escape her curse.

The new children, the ones who had always been protected by their parents and called "miracle" and "special little soldier" and "my darling princess", they were unfamiliar with the palace, going together in groups, mainly within their own species, alternating between competing to find who really was the best child and just exploring. Only the eldest understood what their parents had been mourning, the others just sitting by their parents confused but well aware of the atmosphere that demanded silence and reverence.

It was one of these groups of children, a group of Supay demon children, who were exploring one of the

tunnels and playing hide and seek among the stalagmites, when they heard the wind and felt its cold air. As the Supay lived in the Andes, they knew the cold well and looked to see who was coming.

They weren't expecting a boy in a dark blue waistcoat, a tiny red creature with a ringing noise coming off of it tucked into his pocket as they were set down by the wind. The boy was holding a staff and holding himself upright with it, and looked at them curiously. They looked right back at him, equally curious.

"Who are you?" asked one child after a while. The boy turned to her and said,

"My name is Jack Frost. I'm looking for Pitch."

"Everyone keeps talking about him but I've never seen him," said another. "Mother told me that he comes to visit while I'm playing, he brought each of us a golden thingy. They're very pretty."

"Is he here though? I need to find him."

"What's that?" asked one of the children, pointing to the little creature.

"This is Little Guy. He's my friend. Can I go look for Pitch now?" One of the boys, his horns starting to grow (and his parents had gone on and on about them, and he was very proud of them), held out his hand and said,

"I'll take you." And the two went along together, the others following behind. They reached the large main hall, now filled with Unseelie, some of the younger ones peering curiously at the bright and colorful creatures who huddled in their cages.

"Mama! Mama!" called one of the Supay, making a woman with large twisting horns but small fangs turn. "Mama, we found a boy!"

"A boy?" she echoed. The boy in question, still leaning heavily on the staff but looking pleased that the child was holding his hand still, looked at her, waving with his free hand. "What is your name child? Where are your parents?"

"I don't have parents," he said. "Well, not really. Pitch has sort of been like my father for a long time. I'm Jack, by the way. Jack Frost." The woman stared at him moment before bowing.

"It is an honor to meet you, Fearling Prince. I was a general in our army, back before the war that drove us all away. Has Pitch told you of that?"

"No. Everyone keeps calling me a Prince and I don't understand what everyone's going on about."

"My daddy says _I'm_ a prince," said one of the Supay, but the woman, the general, shushed him.

"You are a prince your father's eyes, but Jack is the Prince in our court." And she turned back to Jack, holding out her hand for him to take. "I'll explain everything."

"Is Pitch here? I want to see him."

"No, no he's not. But everyone would love to see you." Jack, on the other hand, looked around at the large room, filled with all sorts of people, some with the same horns and fangs, some with wings, some that materialized from lightning bug forms, some that seemed to be made of mist. There were so many people, everyone was making so much noise, even the bright creatures that screamed as a child began to spin their cage.

"That boy should stop," he said, pointing at the boy who was spinning the cage. "That's cruel."

"Those are minions of one of the Guardians, the ones that led the war against us."

"But they didn't hurt you. Make him stop."

"But they're not nice!" said one of the children that had led Jack back.

"What he's doing isn't nice!" Jack didn't know why he was so upset about this, but he was, and Little Guy seemed to be proud of him and how he was standing up for the things that scared him.

"My Prince, please, you must understand the history of what they and their leader have done—"

"That boy's just being a bully! Bullies should never be excused!" And now around them, it grew colder and colder, until others took notice, looking at the boy with the white hair who was pointing angrily at the boy. "He's a bully!"

He was being very loud, he knew it, but he was upset and he wanted it to stop and he wanted all the screaming to stop too, he wanted all the people to go away, this was where Pitch had taken care of him and it was just ever the two of them. Life _made_ _sense_ then, it was filled with gentle concern and games and stories and lullabies and now everything was too loud and too much with too many people.

The wind lifted him up as his anger and upset grew, and even as he thought it, he was delivered up to where the boy was. Upon seeing him, the boy smiled as if about to ask him to join him in a game, but Jack snapped, "You're being a bully! Stop right now! Bullies are the worst sort of people, you should know that." This seemed to surprise the boy.

"But, my parents told me—"

"Have they ever done anything to you?"

"Not me personally, but—"

"Then you shouldn't act like that! If everyone here is this mean, I'd rather be back with Little Guy's family and Phil."

"Jack!" called a voice, and he turned to see a woman he remembered from when she had come to visit Pitch long ago.

"Stheno!" It was familiarity that he felt when he landed before her and embraced her. Stheno had taken care of him once or twice, her and her two sisters. Pitch had introduced them when he had to leave, back before they began the rest cure. Stheno was his favorite though, Euryale was so strict about everything and Medusa always wore that strange veil and wouldn't play with him. "Stheno, I don't like all these people."

"I know it must be difficult to adjust but—"

"No, it's not that it's just that everyone shouldn't be here. This isn't their home, this is Pitch and my home. No one else's."

Stheno sighed and said, "Jack, this was the home of all these people long ago, before the moon created you. We used to live here, before the war, this was our home. We've spent so long away from this place, our home…myself included. We lived in caves and crevices and forgotten underground cities but so afraid to see each other. Now we have a home."

Jack still didn't like it, he was still upset about the boy who was a bully, he was still unsure about all the people, and now that they were gathering to stare at him and whisper to each other he was growing frightened and a few seemed to recognize that, looking at each other. They were red and grey and green and had fangs and horns and sharp teeth and in that moment, even the veil Medusa wore to protect those around her from her deadly gaze looked threatening. Jack would never be able to explain why, but he was frightened. Perhaps it was because Pitch wasn't there to hold him and say, "I'm here, Snowflake, you don't need to be afraid." Perhaps it was because he had been denied seeing Pitch when he was scared so many times already.

He didn't know.

But the wind snatched him up and carried him away, surprising him into crying out as he was spun out of the place he called home, many of those who had been staring crying out with him and rushing to catch him. Yet Jack didn't struggle as he was carried, for he felt oddly safe. Little Guy was speaking to him in a soothing voice that was too high to hear and his staff was tucked in his arms, security and safety.

And when he was settled into corporeal arms, he didn't even move he felt so content. "My thanks," a woman's voice said.

"My pleasure," a man's said, his voice like a gentle breeze. At this, Jack did open his eyes, seeing a man and a woman there, he in the arms of the woman. She was gentle and careworn, even if she carried a bow and arrows on her back. The man was smiling at him, a fond smile like that of an uncle or grandfather. They both made him feel so very safe. Little Guy had climbed from his pocket and was speaking to them animatedly.

"Yes, I understand. The poor boy has been so frightened lately. Now Jack, my name is Juokshakka. I am the protector of children. The Sámi people used to worship me long ago, as well as my friend here. His name is Biegkegaellies. He is the god of winter winds."

"You've been very dear to me for a long time, Jack," said the man, smiling at the boy.

"Jack, I know you're frightened. A lot has happened around you and you really have no part in half of it. You weren't alive for this, you aren't well-versed enough for that, so on and so forth."

"You protect children?" asked Jack, looking up at her.

"Yes. Myself and my good friend, Maadteraahka. She protects children too, especially girls. Now Jack, we are Sámi Gods. The Sámi people remember us, but we are not worshipped any longer. But Gods, we are separate from Seelie and Unseelie courts. They don't disturb us, we don't disturb them. But you are in such a delicate position, I had to take care of you. My mother agreed."

"Your mother?"

"The Mother," said Biegkegaellies. "Mother Earth. To us, she is known as Akka. She's asked us to protect and educate you."

"Educate me?"

"There is a war coming," said Joukshakka. "Between your father and the Guardians. And we know that he did not sire you, but your father is of choice, and a family of choice is just as important as a family of blood."

"And we brought you home to teach you," added the God. "Do you remember this place?" Jack looked about him and yes, he remembered this place so well.

"My lake!" he said, a smile growing on his face. "I was born here!"

"Yes, yes you were. Your birth called me to you. Do you remember how the wind picked you up?"

"Yes. And then it dropped me."

"I meant to catch you, but the tree beat me to it." Joukshakka laughed aloud at that, and Jack had only ever felt safer in Pitch's arms.

Jack ended up sitting with the two deities on the shore of the slowly thawing lake, right by a marker that named it "Teedyuscung Lake (formerly Jack's Pond)." He had pointed that out and Joukshakka had gotten a very sad look on her face. Biegkegaellies was with him as well, his very presence making the leaves flutter in a cold wind.

"Jack, do you remember the name of this town?" Joukshakka asked.

"Yes, it's called Burgess," Jack said.

"Yes, Burgess. It was named that for its founders, Thaddeus and Hester Burgess. Did you know, they had two children? Anna and Jackson. Jackson was Hester's maiden name, and there was a tradition to name the first son with the mother's maiden name." Jack simply nodded, a bit confused.

"That's interesting?" he offered.

"Yes. Jackson Burgess was a boy who loved to play games and tricks. He poured snow down a preacher's back once, but since he had dropped it from the roof of a building, no one blamed him. He was smart like that. He loved games too, always played hopscotch with his sister. His mother always lectured him though, because hopscotch was a game for highwaymen."

"Jack, do you remember any of this?" asked Biegkegaellies.

"I don't remember that boy, no."

"What about his sister, Anna? She grew up to marry a man named Lesley Marbury, they had ten children."

"Was she the one who always looked sad?"

"You would have only seen her during the winter, so yes."

"I do remember her. I always wanted to make her happy."

"Well, when she was eight, she and her brother went ice skating, on that very lake," said Joukshakka, pointing to it. "But the ice was too thin. Jackson fell through and drowned right in front of her. That's why this lake used to be called Jack's Pond."

"I don't remember that."

"You don't remember anything like that?"

"No." The two deities looked at each other and sighed, the wind blowing harder for Biegkegaellies'.

"Jack, before you were born from this lake, before the moon told you your name and then abandoned you…you _were_ Jackson Burgess. You were a human boy, you had a mother and a father and a sister," said Joukshakka gently, carding her hand through his hair, soothing him. "You drowned saving your sister from that same fate and the moon sought to reward you by giving you new life. He hoped that you would join the ranks of the Guardians, and be his seconds on earth and in the Seelie Court." Jack simply stared at her, seemingly uncomprehending.

"It's impossible for you to grasp this without your memories, and we don't know where those are," said Biegkegaellies. "Each Unseelie was given a box of memories as a bargaining chip for food from the Seelie. Pitch made sure of that."

"So…I was human once?" asked Jack, his voice small.

"Yes. And your sister's ten children all had children. Most people in Burgess can trace their ancestry back to her. Would you like to meet them? They're very good children."

"I had a sister?"

"A very good girl, too." He frowned, still confused. "I see that you will not understand all the particulars. You will learn from experience, then. Come, we'll take you to play with the children. They don't play much now, everyone's been plagued with nightmares since Sanderson's death, but if anyone could make them, it would be you."

Little Guy went with him, holding onto his ear and sitting on his shoulder as Jack walked between the two Gods, through the town which was now so foreign to him. There were still pine trees, there were still bushes that had red branches, but now everything was so radically and vastly different that Jack wasn't entirely certain how to handle it. But then he saw the children. There was one boy who was trying to engage them in a game of some sort, and Jack smiled.

"That is James Bennett," said Joukshakka. "He has the biggest imagination of all the children of Burgess. His room is filled with books on many creatures, elves, yetis, all sorts. He wants to believe, he's refusing to stop believing, it's quite admirable."

"And the others?" asked Jack, looking to each child, each beautiful.

"That is Pippa Newark, I could sing her praises for a thousand years. The twins Claude and Caleb Johnson, those two have such beautiful hearts of gold, they love with all they have. That is Montgomery Hawthorne, they call him Monty and that boy's hope is a beautiful thing to be seen. And that little girl is Sophie Bennett, Jamie's little sister. Such a darling soul, she loves rabbits and the fairies she hears about from the books her mother reads her."

"Who's that?" asked Jack, pointing to a girl who sat watching them, holding a stuffed unicorn. She looked so sad but he couldn't understand why, she was so beautiful.

"That is Katherine Weber. Her parents call her Cupcake. She has a mind that conjures up beautiful images of fantastical creatures, they're so real to her. But her heart and soul are delicate, and the nightmares are breaking her belief. The other children are scared of her. She's considered frightening by them, but the girls in her ballet class know her to be nothing but a sweetie."

"She shouldn't be sad. The others shouldn't be scared of her." And Jack focused, remembering a trick he had discovered back when he tried to make that sad girl-his sister?-happy, a trick to make children play and bring others to those games.

The six snowflakes were spinning about his fingers and he willed them to go to the children. The two Gods watched them float and land on the noses of the six children, making their eyes light up with happiness. "Cupcake!" called the girl, Pippa. "Come play with us!"

"Yeah, come on, Cupcake!" added James, waving her over. The larger girl grinned and ran over, her unicorn tucked under her arm.

"Go on, play," urged Biegkegaellies, and Jack did exactly so, not watching as Joukshakka notched an arrow into her bow, not watching as she kept an eye out for anything that would come for the children.

* * *

When they were finished playing, it was evening and they were each going home, promising to play again the next day. It was obvious that this was the happiest they had been in a long time, if Joukshakka's words about nightmares were true. Still, Jack had made them happy and they had played with him, and it made tears spring to his eyes.

"Are you alright?" asked Biegkegaellies, seeing the tears.

"I'm happy," said Jack. "I've not thrown a snowball in two hundred years. They can't see me, but they still played with me."

"No child has ever seen you, no adult either," said Joukshakka. "Is that true?"

"Yes."

"Well, we ought remedy that." And she disappeared, leaving Jack and the God of winter winds behind.

"She'll take care of it," assured Biegkegaellies. "You will always be a child and she'll always take care of you for that reason. The moon gave you new life, you were transformed from a human to a faerie, and that means that you need belief of humans to reach your full power."

"Does that mean that everyone believes in Stheno and her sisters now?" asked Jack.

"No. The Seelie and Unseelie don't get their power from individual belief, per say, but from a collective belief in what they stand for, increasingly in children now that adults are relying on science. But science is only half the answer. The Seelie get power by a belief in the seconds of their King, by the consistency of wonder, hope, dreams, while the Unseelie's power comes from fear and caution. It is very complicated, your position especially."

"My position?"

"That is an answer for another time. Come, you and your friend should come with me. We'll fly." As the wind picked them up with a twist of the man's wrist, Jack asked where exactly they were going. His only answer was, "Tomorrow."

All around them there was a shift and Jack could feel the immense magic and power and time rearranging and all of it happened in the space of a second and suddenly the sun was high and they were exactly where they had been. "Father Time must honor a request of a God," said Joukshakka, answering Jack's unasked question. "Now, do you see those children? If you go play with them, they will be able to see you." He turned and saw the same children he had played with for so long minutes-hours ago.

And off he flew, hoping against hope that they would see him.

He had much to thank Joukshakka, for partway through what they said would probably be the last snowball fight they could have as spring was well on its way, James stopped and stared up at him, followed swiftly by Cupcake. Then Monty, then Pippa, then Claude and Caleb. Soon, they were all staring at him, and Little Guy was waving, speaking rapidly at them.

"I don't think they can understand you, Little Guy," said Jack. Little Guy frowned for a moment, but shrugged and waved again. Cupcake waved slightly back.

"Who are you?" Pippa finally asked.

"My name's Jack Frost. This is Little Guy. He came with me when I ran away."

"Where did you run away from?" asked Cupcake.

"I don't really know. Two places really. First it was a place in the middle of the snow, there was an old man there, and a woman with wings, and a big rabbit. North, Toothiana, and Bunnymund, those were their names. Little Guy came with me there, and then I tried to go home, but then Stheno was there and she said that all the people who were there had more of a home than I did there and then Little Guy came with me here."

"Stheno?" echoed Claude.

"Wait, like Medusa's sister?" asked James. "She was in one of my books! I remember her because she had a weird name! Do you know Medusa?"

"Yeah, she always wears a veil and never wants to play with me. Says that playing will make the veil fall off and she'll accidentally turn me to stone." And through it all, a grin was growing on Jack's face, unbelievable joy growing in him. There were six beautiful, _beautiful_ children who were all looking at him, some of them were descended from the girl Joukshakka claimed to be his sister, it was enough to forget all the fear that he had felt in the past few days.

And that was how he spent the rest of the day, explaining to the children that a Sámi Goddess had made them believe in him and that was why he could be seen by them, and his earnestness made them see her as well, her bow and arrow on her back, her face smiling and careworn. Biegkegaellies told Jack that he didn't want to be seen, he needed to keep "a mystery" about him that made Joukshakka laugh. And Jack then began to tell stories to the children, Little Guy sitting in James' ("I like to be called Jamie") lap.

"And then Mercury arrived! He was sent by Jupiter himself, and told Aeneas" here he put on as close a voice as he could to match Pitch's voice for Mercury, a voice that was tricky and wise all at once "'You must go to Italy, your destiny calls you there! Leave Dido and Carthage behind, leave at once!' And Aeneas did so, because when a God tells you to do something, you do it."

"Keep that in mind," advised Joukshakka. "If I ever tell you to do something, you best do it."

"Yes, ma'am," said Monty ("I don't like the name Montgomery, not really").

"Shh!" admonished Pippa. She wanted to hear this story.

"_So_,_" _said Jack, continuing, "Aeneas did so. He had to go to Italy and when she heard about it, Dido cursed him and all his descendents, forever setting Carthage and Rome to war against each other. But to complete the curse, she needed to make an altar for Pluto, the God of the Dead. And when they needed a sacrifice, she grabbed her dagger and stabbed herself!" The children gasped. "And as she died, she said, 'My memory will live for ages. My people perform heroic destiny. One day on African soil, born to my ash a vengeful glorious. I can already hear the thunder name the winner. Hannibal! Hannibal! pride of my soul is full! More bitter memories! So Aeneas should go to hell!'"

Once he was done with the story of Aeneas and Dido, he told of The Scarlet Pimpernel, of d'Artagnan, of any other story he could think of. This lasted for a long time, and Jack had never felt stronger, never felt better, now that he had six lovely children looking at him and begging him for more stories, for more illustrations of ice to tell those same stories.

Whatever magic the protectress of Children had performed was amazing and Jack was certain he would never be able to thank her enough. But finally, they had to go home, and they made Jack promise to come back again at some point, but there was no promise needed for Jack to ever come and see them again. Tears of joy in his eyes, he embraced Joukshakka, tears soaking into her bright dress.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you."

"He's at the Pole," said Biegkegaellies. "He won't be happy. I think it's time we send Jack on."

"Jack," said Joukshakka, kneeling down, her impressive height putting her right at eye level with him. "Jack, I need you to listen. We're going to send you back to the North Pole, where Little Guy lives. Now I know you were scared there, but Pitch is there. He wants to make every Seelie feel exactly what the Unseelie went through. That means that those who you saw will be trapped in disbelief, as well as Sanderson, one you haven't met but with one of the biggest hearts and cleverest minds ever. You've met the Frozen Beards, haven't you?"

"Yes. I liked them, they were nice."

"They would suffer the same hell you have, no one able to see you, unable to reach out to anyone. But they would also be terrified to seek help, and that isolation would make it worse. One Court cannot have that much power over another, the fact that the Seelie have this long is an oversight those of us not in either court have tried our best to mend."

"So I need to tell Pitch not to do that?"

"I've kept an eye on you, Jack. You are the only spirit who will forever be a child, you are forever one of mine. Every other spirit will grow, every other eternal spirit is an adult. You created a dream for yourself, a Place of your Own."

"Yes, it's the one thing that I could say was a real dream."

"And listen to me, Jack. That idea of a Place, that idea is the idea of balance in the world, of harmony between two ancient enemies and we need that. Go and speak to Pitch, tell him of that dream, he'll listen to you, you are beloved to him, you are a family of choice. Remind him, remind the Guardians, restore belief, restore hope and wonder and dreams. Akka has told us to make certain this happens."

"Why is she so interested anyway?"

"She works in mysterious ways that we will never understand. She is as old as the earth and older than any living thing on this earth," said Biegkegaellies. "If anyone knows what must be done, it is a woman as old as she. Now go, Jack. Good spirits are hiding because they can't protect children and the children themselves are scared to fall asleep for nightmares, the ones you met and told stories to are the last ones to believe at this point." Joukshakka gently kissed Jack's brow, and Little Guy settled into Jack's pocket. Biegkegaellies smiled and raised a hand, a cold wind raising Jack up from the ground and sending him away.

Jack knew, somehow, that he'd not see them for a very long time, but he did not want to face them without doing what they told him to do. He wanted to make them proud. Besides, he would finally get to see Pitch again.

* * *

**A/N: **And now let's make this even longer with some explanations, shall we?

Dhegdheer: "One with long ears" she is a monster from Somali mythology, a cannibalistic witch that lives in the wilderness and eats children

Ponaturi: Maori spirits that were destroyed in the sunlight, most if not all of them were said to be killed by Tāwhaki, a grandson of a (yet again) cannibalistic goddess named Whaitiri and her mortal husband Kaitangana (Man-Eater)

Ippolitov-Ivanov: a Russian composer, not very well known, most of his work isn't often performed, but he did conduct the final performance of Tchaikovsky's "Romeo and Juliet" and taught Sergei Vasilenko

Jack's Lullaby: "Song of Exile" by The Blessed Blend. If you have ever seen the film "King Arthur" it's the same song

Tompte: Swedish spirits that live in the house and assist children in their chores/bake them bread in the night. They are helpful and benevolent spirits whose only goal is to take care of children.

Losi: A giant in Samoan mythology, he's a trickster and his father is Tagaloa, the god of the sea

Adze: in Ewe folklore, the Adze are vampiric creatures. They travel as little lights like fireflies,but if caught turns into a human and possess a human. Sometimes they would creep in as people slept and drank their blood, killing them. There is no way to defend yourself against the Adze.

Svartálfar and Dökkálfar: In Norse mythology, they are the Dark Elves, given different names but mostly the same species the Svartálfar live in the realm of Svartálfaheimr

Púcas: Mythological creatures in Guernsey, Wales, Ireland, they are tricksters and shapeshifters. If you climb onto their backs they will take on a "wild ride" but won't do any physical harm

Medusa and her sisters: Medusa is the best known of the three Gorgons, but the other two are Stheno and Euryale. Each were priestesses in a temple of Athena, but Poseidon came and raped the three. Athena turned the three girls into monsters for defiling her temple. This is a story that is faced with a _lot _of criticism for very good reasons

Boo Hags: Gullah folklore holds that Boo Hags are almost like vampires, but they get their power from someone's breath. Story goes that at night, they'll steal a victim's skin and wear it like clothing and ride them like a horse through the world. When the victim wakes they're very tired or sometimes out of breath. Boo Hags usually leave the victims alive for energy later.

Voodoo Lily: a bulb plant that smells of rotting flesh, but is not to be mistaken for a Corpse Flower. The Voodoo Lily grows in the shade and will not if exposed to too much sunlight

Devil's Hand Tree: native to the south of Mexico, the Devil's Hand Tree was used by the Aztecs to treat stomach aches. The name comes from the fact that it looks like a white and red hand

Hun-Came and Vucub-Came: Now these two are rather confusing. Mayan death spirits, they both have the name death, differentiated by "One" and "Seven" as their prefixes. There is no real distinction between the two other than that they are named differently

Mictlantecuhtli: Aztec death god, one of the most principle of the death Gods and Goddesses. Worship of him sometimes included cannibalism. He is often depicted as a skeleton

Mictecacihuatl: She is Mictlantecuhtli's wife, often called "Lady of the Dead." It is said that she was sacrificed as an infant and grew up to marry the death god. her job is to watch over the bones of the dead

The Unseelie's Song: Based off of Eric Whitacre's "When David Heard" which was commissioned for the son of the commissioner, who died in a car crash. The original text is "When David heard that Absalom was slain, he went to his chamber above the gate and wept 'My son! Oh my son! Would that I had died for thee! My son! Oh my son!'"

The Al: In Armenian mythology, the Al were creatures who would come steal children away. They were most vulnerable for forty days after they were born

Lamia: Lamia was a Greek Queen of Libya who was impregnated by Zeus. Hera curses her to become a child eating demon, killing all of her children but Scylla (yes, the monster in the Odyssey).

Supay Demons: the Supay are demons in Inca mythology. There is very little information on them, but they are associated with miner's rituals. They were often invoked, according to Christian missionaries in the Inca people, and begged not to hurt anyone. There is a Supay Dance during a festival entitled "_Mamacha Candich__a" _(The Flame Virgin) which can last for two weeks

Juokshakka: "The Woman with the Arrow." In Sámi mythology, she is the daughter of Akka, and is the protectress of children. She is supposed to carry a bow and arrow

Akka: Mother Earth in Sámi mythology

Maadteraahka: A Sámi goddess who protects children, boys up until they are called men, but protect women their whole lives

Biegkegaellies: I mentioned him before, the Sámi God of Winter Winds. He has a brother, the God of Summer Winds, Bieggolmai, who carries two shovels to shovel the winds out of his cave home.

Teedyuscung: He was the chief of the Lunape people in New England during the early 18th century. In 1763 he was murdered by arsonists and his son Bull became chief.

Hopscotch as a highwayman's game: It really was! It only became a schoolboy's game in the beginning of the 18th century in England. At that point it was called "Scotch-Hoppers"

Dido's dying pledge: No, that wasn't taken from the Aeneid as I should have. It's translated from Hector Berlioz's _Les Troyens_, a five hour opera that is rarely performed. Dido sings that as she dies on the altar for Pluto.

A note on the elves and why they kept licking food: It's a personal belief of mine that the reason North was never upset about the fact that the elves were eating his food/that he ate food they had licked is that the saliva of the elves holds some sort of natural magic that keeps him, as a human granted immortality, in possession of a certain amount of magic as it comes from a magic creature. The fact that Jack turns this down is so strange because most of the Seelie have come to depend on it to enhance their own powers

And this, my friends, is proof I do far too much research for this story.


	8. Allies

**A/N: **And here we are again! This chapter felt tricky to write, and it's been rewritten a few times, and that is why it is so long since last update. Still, it's here and that's what matters does it not?

I do not own Rise of the Guardians

* * *

At the North Pole, Bunnymund had lost all his power, and nothing was bringing it back, he was nothing but a small little rabbit, no bigger than any other rabbit born half a month before. North was an old man through and through, and Tooth was losing her feathers faster and faster. They were despairing as they watched the lights that marked their believers went out more and more, and when black nightmare sand appeared and Pitch with it, Toothiana was the only one who could hold any weapon, though none were presenting themselves and so she too was helpless.

"May I have your attention please!" said Pitch, giddy with the forgotten power he had done so long without, the power that came from being the only being who had roots of fear all across the globe. "You're all free to go! We won't be needing any Christmas Toys this year! Or…ever again!" From below, the Guardians stared angrily up at him, but there was no way to reach him as he practically danced across the globe. "Oh would you look here, there are only six lights! Only six precious children who still believe in you. Well, perhaps we should snuff those lights too?" and as he lifted his foot to step on them and douse the belief of the six children of Burgess, he suddenly turned, as if hearing something. One of the nightmares that were with him reared, before galloping out of the skylight.

It became clear what this distraction was as soon as the nightmare returned, Jack Frost clinging to her back, holding his staff tight with one hand. He looked a bit frightened, but resolved, and as soon as his eyes landed on Pitch, happiness appeared. It was pure happiness that hadn't shown on Jack's face in a long, long, time.

"Pitch!" he cried, jumping off of the nightmare, the elf clutching at his pocket as he flew to where the Bogeyman stood, embracing him tightly. The force of impact was enough that it sent Pitch stumbling, missing the small lights entirely and coming to a stop on top of the Bering Sea.

"Oh my boy…" breathed Pitch, uncaring for anything but his beautiful brave boy. "My brave boy, my brave little snowflake. Oh Jacky-Boy, I've missed you so."

"I've seen a lot of things, Pitch. Some were scary, but some were nice too. Everyone keeps talking about a war and I don't understand."

"It's a very dark story," warned Pitch. "Much darker than that of the White Rose even."

"The White Rose is a good story," protested the child, still happily tucked against the chest of his father. "Because they did what was right."

"Yes they did. But it doesn't matter now. The war will be avenged and _you_ my boy, won't have to suffer any more."

"But I'm not!" now Jack pulled away, pointing over to the lights. "See those? They believe in me! Juokshakka did some sort of magic and then they could see me! There are six of them! Six children who can see me and I told them stories like you tell and they made me promise to come see them again and…" he trailed off, seeing the peculiar look on Pitch's face. He couldn't put a word to what it was.

"You've grown up. When did that happen?" asked Pitch, a hand reaching to card through the white hair of his son.

"I don't know."

"You're not going to let me put out those lights, are you?"

"No." Pitch sighed.

"I have to Jack. I'm not sure you understand."

"You mean all those people at home? I went there, but there was this bully and everyone was staring at me and Stheno was there and she said that they had more of a home there than me and I ran away."

"You went home? You saw the court?"

"There was a woman with these horns and she kept calling me prince and _everyone's_ been calling me prince and I don't understand."

"I promise that I will explain everything, Jack."

"Why not explain now?" Pitch opened his mouth, about to respond, but suddenly grabbed Jack and slipped through a shadow, emerging behind a group of the large hairy creatures, a large scythe appearing in his hand. He looked as though he was going to attack them, but then Phil appeared, scolding the others, gesturing at Jack, who Pitch stood protectively before.

But as Jack began to smile at seeing Phil again, Little Guy in his pocket waving happily to the large creature, Pitch held his boy close to him, turning and shouting to the old man who once was one of the strongest Seelie on the planet, "Your yetis just _attacked a child!"_

"Yetis could not see him. Yetis would never attack a child," replied North, furiously angry but too weak to do much.

Both were bristling with anger, even Toothiana and the small rabbit looked furious, and Jack suddenly realized _oh, this is what Juokshakka was talking about._

"Pitch, don't be mad," he said. "It's not their fault. And Phil has been scolding the others."

"Phil?" asked Pitch, turning to the boy.

"Phil. The yeti." And he pointed to the one in question. "He took me to see the children here. And then he helped me leave. I was scared and he made me feel better." Pitch was looking at the yeti curiously, his posture still screaming of protection, but almost ready to let that go. "I mean, I was having visions and—" he cut himself, realizing what he had said.

"Visions? You were having visions?"

"For a long while now," said Jack. "That was one of the reasons I hated the moon so much. It kept making me see things I didn't understand. I…I was very bad about treatment, I kept a journal and kept record of what I saw. It's still at the Emperor's Palace. I…I kept having visions of them. I didn't realize it though." He pointed to where the three stood, Pitch's eyes locking on them.

"You forced my boy through ages of agony and emotional torture," he said, voice soft but the most dangerous Jack had ever heard it, "making him see things he couldn't comprehend and to what end?"

"We may disagree with you on many points, but we would _never_ force a boy through torture," said Toothiana, hands reaching for something at her side that was not there.

"Then _explain to me_, Tooth Fairy, what it was my child was forced through!" now his voice was loud and honestly terrifying, but he turned to Jack with the same gentle concern as always when Jack tugged on his sleeve for attention.

"They're not the moon!" insisted Jack. "I just saw them and didn't understand, they didn't send the visions at all!"

"Why are you defending them?" Jack looked down and helped Little Guy out of his pocket, the small creature running to rub noses with his wife.

"It's like you always told me. If I know one side of the story, I'll chase the monster through the woods, but if I know the other side…"

"You'll invite him in for tea," sighed Pitch. "You've listened too well."

"And then I was talking to Juokshakka and she was telling me about balance too. That they have just an important part in the world as you." And he gestured to the Guardians, who were watching their interactions curiously. "She said that the gods wanted balance and that you didn't have the power you were supposed to have has been something they've been trying to fix."

"You talked to Juokshakka?" asked Toothiana. "She hasn't left the Sámi Pantheon in ages. None of the gods have."

"Really? Biegekegaellies told me that I was beloved to him for a long time."

"You truly are a very special boy," said North, making Jack look to him even as Pitch laid a strong hand on his shoulder. "If the gods take interest enough in you."

"I don't know what they meant, but they kept talking about balance, that you had too much power. Do _you_ know what that means?"

"I think I do," said Bunnymund, his voice contemplative and slightly unsure. "But I don't think you'll want to hear it."

"No I do!" insisted Jack, going over and kneeling down in front of the little rabbit even as Pitch called his name, taking a step forward. "I've seen a lot of people be really upset and I'd really like to know why."

The rabbit sighed and said, "Well it looks like Pitch is going to burst a blood vessel if you don't go back over to him, so maybe we should stop this standoff and go talk somewhere else?" Jack nodded.

* * *

Soon enough they were settled, but "settled" was a relative term, Pitch looking ready to attack or flee at any moment, standing behind where Jack sat, Little Guy and his family on his lap, watching Bunny intently as the Guardian settled himself.

"Well, you've heard about the war, right?" Jack nodded. "Do you know what it was fought over?"

"No. I've heard everyone reference it but…"

"It was fought over nothing."

"Nothing? But…but all wars are fought over _something!_ Like…like Helen for the Trojan War or-or the Punic Wars! That was fought over land, and-and the Peloponnesian War was too and even the War of the Roses was—"

"That's the thing, Jack," said Pitch softly from where he stood engulfed in shadow. "Those wars I told you stories of were all _human_ wars. Ours was not and thus did not fight over the same things."

"But you killed each other over _nothing?_"

"Not quite _nothing,_" amended Bunny. "But barely anything. We fought Pitch's court over the fact that they had been engaging in the practice of changelings. They fought us over their claim of hypocrisy."

"Our claim was justified, Rabbit," snapped Pitch. "You lot accused us of murder, you did the same."

"_Anyway,_" continued Bunny, glaring at Pitch with a fire in his eyes that seemed out of place for his small and rather adorable frame, "the war happened at the end of the Dark Ages, the time of human Renaissance. We won, but…at a price."

"Is that why that general was insisting they should be cruel to the bright little things in the cages?" asked Jack, starting to piece it together.

"Fairies, Jack," said Pitch. "They are fairies."

"What were they doing to my fairies?" gasped Tooth.

"There was this boy and he kept spinning the cage some were in even while they were screaming. I told him he was a bully and that he should stop though," Jack added, seeing her looking a mix of furious and heartbroken. "I think he did, too."

"I suppose that bullies like that could have been a result," said Bunny, drawing Jack's attention back to him. "But the price was really very high. The Man in the Moon, he ordered us to go to the Unseelie Palace and…and finish the war, win it. We were to send them into exile from each other, and we did. Those were technically our only orders. Down in the Forbidden Palace…the Moon couldn't see us, and some of those I was in charge of…they got drunk on the power we held over the Unseelie in that moment."

"At least half of my troops did the same," agreed North, looking so, so old. Tooth nodded, sighing quietly and sadly.

"So…so what? What happened?"

"It might not be a story you want to hear," said Tooth gently.

"Jack's been put to bed with stories of Cipactli," said Pitch. "He's more valiant than you think him to be." Jack smiled at Pitch in that moment, he liked being called valiant. But he turned back when North took up the tale.

"None of us, Guardians, saw what happened exactly, but the Unseelie were crying when we gathered them and read them the conditions of the unconditional surrender. The heads of many were shaved though we gave no order to, and if the way Lamia was calm, there were no children nearby. It can be assumed then, Jack, that our soldiers killed all the children in that Palace."

For a long moment, Jack merely stared at him, uncomprehending. Then he finally said, "Why? Why would they ever harm a child, let alone kill them?"

"Jack," said Pitch, making the boy turn to him, looking for answers. "Do you remember what happened when the Greeks came out of the horse?" he nodded. "They did not love the girls they violated. It was power. They did not hate the Gods of the temples they burned. It was power. They were drunk on it and destroyed the whole city."

"And the same thing happened to your Palace? To home?" Pitch merely bowed his head, not saying anything. "That's not right!"

"We were never perfect, Jack. We were spirits of darkness, we were demons and monsters and I don't try to deny that. That's who we were. We weren't saints or martyrs. But the Seelie were no Holy Warriors either. We've both killed."

"You told me that I shouldn't associate with murdering spirits before."

"Not you. You're a good boy, you aren't meant for their ways."

"You were _meant_ to join us," said Tooth. "The Moon made you for that, to join us and protect children. But I suppose that will never happen, not after how we didn't think to seek you out in those first hundred years."

"But that is long ago, and now we should be focusing on whatever balance it was Juokshakka was talking about," said North.

"Good luck taking power away from my court," said Pitch with a snort. "They've only just got it back and they will do anything to preserve it."

"You don't have to take away power," said Jack. "Just give some more to the Seelie."

"Jack, you are an innocent. Whenever one court has more power, the other court loses some."

"Then just split it in half!" a fond and sad smile spread on Pitch's face, a sigh blowing out of his mouth.

"Did Juokshakka say anything about _achieving_ balance?" asked Tooth, making Jack turn back to her.

"Not really. She talked a lot about how I couldn't comprehend until I had my memories or something. Then she said that I was human at some point but I don't remember that at all." The surprise at that statement was almost tangible in the room, but Jack was distracted by how Little Guy's children were trying to climb the buttons on his tailcoat and gently pulled them off and set them down by their mother.

"That…would be my area of expertise." Tooth approached and looked to Pitch for permission before she touched his shoulder, making him look up at her. Pitch, keeping a close eye on the two, finished a very memorable picture for those watching the exchange. "Jack, I can show you what Juokshakka was talking about, I can show you your memories from when you were human, if we can get your milk teeth."

"That I can provide," said Pitch. Both turned to him. "Jack, do you remember how you heard a voice calling your name when you left the Emperor's Palace?"

"Yes, it confused me so much," said Jack.

"It came from your memory box." And he handed the golden tube to the boy, who turned it over in his hands, admiring the little designs and the picture on the end. Tooth placed her hand over his, activating the box, and the boy went very, very still.

* * *

When he came back to himself, Jack was enfolded in the familiar and safe embrace of his father, a familiar lullaby rumbling deep in the man's chest. And though he was held, his mind and soul were both aflight in a way that used to frighten him into having a story told to calm his swirling mind. "Did-did you see that?" he asked, looking to Pitch first and then to everyone else. He was speaking with an energy that made Pitch smile. He could see nothing of the sick boy who was scared of the moon; here was a valiant, brave, good boy, his Jacky Boy through and through. "I-I _was_ human! I had a _sister! _I _saved _her!" he turned to the Guardians and said, "You-you're called the Guardians, right?"

"Yes," agreed North. "We protect the children of the world."

"And I was supposed to…_oh_." And Jack scrambled to his feet, looking at Pitch with a light in his eyes that Pitch had only seen on fleeting occasions. "You wanted to put out those lights, so those people at home will want to too won't they?"

"The Unseelie?" said Pitch. "Yes, they will. And they won't be sending a few nightmares to do it. They aren't above killing humans to serve their purposes."

"Then we need to go protect them! You said that your Irish friend is unstoppable, right?"

"Gan Ceann?"

"The Dullahan," said Bunny, turning to Tooth, who in turn looked to North.

"Dullahan is not unstoppable," the old Russian said. "But is very specific way." He held up his thumb, on which sat a ring and said, "Gold is only thing."

"I don't think the children are wearing gold," said Jack.

"Probably not," agreed Pitch, standing. "Jack, you realize that if it weren't for the fact that those children are what is keeping you from relapsing to where you were a hundred years or so ago, I would be fully in support of the Unseelie snuffing out their lights on the globe."

"Yes, I know. But don't you want balance?"

"No, I want the belief I have been denied the past thousand years or so. You've never had belief before. I had it, I had it for a long time, before it was stripped away from me, and now I have it back. I want to keep it. Didn't you want belief?"

"I thought a lot about it," said Jack, frowning down at the ground. "I talked to the Emperor and he told me about how he had a dream even back when he feared for his life. He talked about how he wanted an Empire, wanted to unite all the kingdoms, but I don't remember their names. So I started thinking about what my dream is. I heard you say there were no dreams left and I thought I used them all up so I wanted to come up with a new one, so that there was at least some left. And I thought all day, and I finally decided that I didn't want belief. I just wanted a place."

"A place?" echoed Pitch, sounding disbelieving.

"Well, everyone I've ever seen or heard about has had a place. They've had homes, families, stuff like that. They have a place, they're Guardians, you have a place, you're a king. I don't have one, and that's all I want. I figure that if everyone has their own place, then everyone would be happy and you wouldn't have to fight wars. You'd each have your belief and you'd have power and you'd be happy."

"You really care that much about all of us?" asked Bunny. "You only met us two days ago."

"I just don't want any more children to die. I don't want anyone to die. _I _died, and it was really scary at first. Then it sort of felt like falling asleep, but I don't want anyone to be that scared and maybe not die as easily as I did either."

"You _died?_" gasped Tooth, staring at him.

Jack nodded, and Pitch could see that he was growing distressed, thinking about it. "We were ice skating, but the ice was too thin. I saved her, but I…" and he was growing very small within his frame, holding tightly to his staff and curling into it.

But then he was engulfed in the warm safety of Pitch's embrace, his father's cloak wrapped about him, his head tucked underneath Pitch's chin. The man was singing very softly to him, one of the songs that Jack adored but Pitch was never entirely willing to sing. It almost didn't fit him, joyful as it was. "Gaudete, gaudete! Christus est natus! Ex Maria virgine, gaudete! Gaudete, gaudete! Christus est natus! Ex Maria virgine, gaudete! Tempus adest gratiæ hoc quod optabamus. Carmina lætitiæ devote reddamus. Gaudete, gaudete! Christus est natus! Ex Maria virgine, gaudete!" Jack was soothed by this, he no longer lingered on the terrifying moment the ice cracked and he fell in, gasping in the water and filling his lungs to sink and die.

"Gaudete?" asked North, disbelieving.

"Many of us are Christian, North," said Pitch, his voice sharp but actions gentle as he checked if Jack was alright. "_Why_ do you think we engaged in the practice of changelings?"

"I'm better," said Jack as Pitch let him go. "But those children are still in danger. Isn't that what you do, you protect children?"

"Jack, we are far from our usual selves. Only those six children believe in us anymore," said Tooth. "I can't fly, Bunny's much smaller, North's too weak to stand…and Sandy's _dead._"

"Who is Sandy?"

"Do you remember the thing that frightened you so much? The one that made dolphins?" said Pitch.

"Oh. Oh, does he control that? You-you mentioned him once."

"Exactly. His name is Sanderson, but everyone just calls him Sandy."

"Could he help protect those children?"

"He could tip the balance right back where it was, sending my court into exile and living in fear for the next thousand years."

"Sandy would help in any way he could," said North.

"Really. Tell me then, what you would do to me and my son if you were at full power. You would beat me down and send me back underneath beds. You would keep Jack here and have him join your band, force him to take your oath. He would be too frightened of what you would do to him if he didn't agree. You would then storm into the Forbidden Palace and send everyone back to their caves and crevices and basements, you would destroy everything yet again and probably worse. The Unseelie would be angry and the next uprising would be far more than just myself and much, much more violent. You'd have mermaids seeking refuge weeping from how their sisters were cooked up and eaten. You'd have ice spirits coming and attacking this place. There would be no respite, you know that."

"Stop fighting!" said Jack. They all turned to him. "I don't know everything about why you hate each other, I'm not even going to pretend to know, but if you aren't going to help me, I'm going to go protect those children myself."

"Jack, you're not powerful enough to deter some of the death spirits!"

"Everyone has been saying I'm a prince. Maybe they'll listen to me because of that. More than any of you are listening." And then he was out the window, the wind snatching him up and propelling him away at high speed.

* * *

It was night when Jack made it back to Burgess. Biegekegaellies was carrying him gently, but faster than Jack had ever flown before, soaring down to the thawing town. He knew where Jamie lived, but the other five were in danger, and he didn't know where to find them or anything.

Coming to land atop Jamie's house, he peered through each window until he found Jamie in bed, obviously asleep. But he balanced himself on the sill and pounded on the window, increasingly desperate as the boy didn't wake up. But finally he did, and upon seeing Jack, woke entirely.

Running to the window, the boy opened it saying, "Jack, you're back! Is that lady with you? She was cool, but I can't pronounce her name. Jook, joo-ohk—"

"Juokshakka. No, she's not with me. But you have to come with me," he said.

"Why?"

"Because you and your friends are the last believers in the Guardians and the Unseelie want you gone so they have full power and they'll kill you to do it." Jamie looked scared now, and Jack put his hands on his shoulders. "But I promise I'll keep you safe. You and your friends, but I don't know where they live. We need to get them now, before the Dullahan comes. Get some gold and come outside."

"Gold? I don't understand."

"Dullahan is a death spirit. He kills people. But he's scared of gold. All of the Guardians, they always have gold on them or in their homes, but you don't."

"I think my mom has a necklace. I'll be right back."

"Hurry!" called Jack as the boy darted out of his room. Jack stood on the window, staring across the town, a self appointed protector for the six children who saw him, the six who would make that balance that he had been told so much about. It was only a minute or two before Jamie was back, with a gold chain around his neck. "Great, now where do your friends live? We need to get them."

"Pippa and Monty live closest, Cupcake's closer to the highway, and Claude and Caleb are nearer the park." And the two flew out of the room, Jamie held by his shirt's back as Jack was carried along by the wind, silently pleading Biegekegaellies to help hold Jamie because he couldn't carry all six like this.

Pippa was a light sleeper apparently, and she actually had a pair of gold earrings to wear, but Monty had to steal a ring from his mother, which only fit on his thumb. The four of them had to run now, as Jack couldn't carry them. The fear among them was high, and Jack was trying so hard to get them to not be scared, because they would be easier to find that way.

They reached Claude and Caleb's house quickly, and Jack advised them to hide and think about happy things and not be scared while he went to wake the twins up. Claude got a gold tie pin to attach to his shirt, and Caleb grabbed a necklace that had belonged to his grandmother, which had a golden charm of a goose on it.

"Where is Cupcake?" asked Jack, once the twins got out of their house.

"She lives near the highway, doesn't she?" said Jamie.

"No, she's just a ways away from my house," said Pippa. "I can show you."

"Okay." And he offered his back to climb onto. "All of you, hide. Hide, and if you hear a horse pulling a wagon, _run. _I'll find you. If you can't, hold up your gold and he'll go."

"Who?" asked Monty.

"My father's friend, the Dullahan. You probably haven't heard of him. He drives a cart and it is _terrifying._ But he's scared of gold. He'll run away. Keep yourselves safe, Pippa and I will be back soon." And he took off, the wind carrying him the way Pippa pointed.

"Jack, who's your father?" she asked.

Jack paused for a long time before saying, "The Bogeyman."

"The Boogieman? He's your _dad?_"

"Not really. Have you ever heard the phrase, 'Blood of the convent is thicker than water of the womb'?"

"No."

"Oh. Well, it's a saying, and it's technically about knights and brothers in arms, but it works the same way. He took care of me for two hundred years, I was sick and I'm only just getting better. I think of him as my father, and he's called me his son to other people. I had a father who sired me, but he's long dead."

"Your real father?"

"My father in my past life. Pitch is my father in this life."

"You had a past life? Like reincarnation or something?"

"I was human. I drowned in the lake here and died. The moon brought me back to life as a spirit. And now I'm supposed to be in charge of balancing the Light and Dark courts, according to the gods. Is this Cupcake's house?"

"No, that one, over there. But you really lived here?"

"A long time ago. About three hundred years ago. I only just got my memories back though, so I'm still fuzzy on the details." By that time, Jack had found Cupcake's room and started pounding on the window. She startled awake and grinned at seeing them. Opening the window, she opened her mouth to say something, but Jack said, "You need to come with me. And you need to grab some gold."

"Why?"

"It's a long story, and as long as you don't have gold, you're not safe. Can you get any?"

"Nothing that's entirely gold."

"Just a little bit is enough." She nodded, and ran to where a jewelry box was. Opening it, there was music playing as a tiny ballerina figure spun, but she rooted through the toy jewelry to grab a ring.

"My aunt gave it to me for Christmas," she explained. "She said it's gold."

"That should work just fine. Come on, I can carry both of you, but I don't know how I'll carry all six of you." And holding Cupcake with Pippa still on his back, he flew to where the other children still were, landing and gently setting them down. "Nothing came?"

"Nope," said Jamie. "What do we do now?"

"I…I don't know. I need to keep you safe, but I don't know where that is. I haven't been on my own in two hundred years. I don't think I can get under the mountain to the Emperor's Palace with you, and you can't survive in Antarctica…"

"You could always ask for help," said a new voice, and they all turned to where a figure was stepping into vision. Fear was what the children felt, for they were uncertain of who this was and Jack had said spirits wanted to kill them. But Jack grinned and embraced him, for it was his father who slipped out of the shadows. "Oh Jack, you can't just run away like that, I was worried sick."

"I'm not sorry. No one was listening to me and I need to protect them."

"You'd be surprised what that stunt of yours did. The Guardians are coming on their last bit of power that they have left."

"And you beat them."

"Of course. They don't have a son who ran away to do something both very brave and rather stupid." Jack pulled out of the embrace at that, frowning at his father, who smiled down at him fondly.

"You said I'm valiant."

"Yes I did, but the most valiant are also often the stupidest."

"I'm not stupid. See, they all have gold!"

"That's…that's actually quite clever of you. Unfortunately, the gold will not protect against _every_ creature."

"Are you the Boogieman?" asked Pippa, stepping forward. The man among them turned to look at her, and upon seeing she was entirely earnest said,

"Yes, yes I am."

"And are you really Jack's dad?"

"I have come to view myself as such."

"That is so cool." Pitch looked taken aback and confused, and Jack, not entirely up to date with how people spoke after so long in isolation, wasn't much better. However, before they could say anything, they heard the ringing of sleigh bells and a lot of shouting.

"Well the insufferable band is here," sighed Pitch. "Come along, Jack, we'll protect your believers."

"Really? You'll help me?" asked Jack, grinning.

"Mother Earth is not pleased with us, and neither are the Gods. They cannot kill me, but there are many horrible things they could do, and I would really rather not have them happen at all."

"How do you know they're angry?"

"Mother Earth has her ways of communicating with us. She threatened to take you away from me to give to the Gods of the icy lands to take care of, and that is a threat I will not allow her to follow through on. Children, I give you my solemn word that I will not harm you this night nor this coming dawn. I swear this on the wounds of Christ."

If anything, this oath did nothing to soothe them, for they hadn't thought of being harmed by someone who Jack thought so highly of, but now it seemed that he would have and it only unnerved the usually brave children.

But Jack smiled at them and held out his hands. Jamie took one hand, and Pippa the other. Cupcake took Jamie's hand and Monty took hers and Jack handed Monty his staff as his hand clasped Pippa's small delicate one. Claude and Caleb latched onto each other's hands and Pippa's, and Jack, in the middle, led them along, following where his father led. "I didn't know you were Christian," said Jack brightly.

"Many Unseelie are, Jack. Where do you think I learned those chants and carols?" said Pitch, a smile on his face at how Jack was making those children's fears slip away with his bright step and voice, his absolute trust in his father making the children feel that they were safe as well. "That is why we practiced Changing."

"I still don't really understand that. Could you explain it?"

"We would enchant our children to look human and replace them for human children, so that they would be saved by baptism. We took care of the children we stole, loved them, and let them go when they were adults and could fend for themselves. Our children, those of trolls or elves or fairies, they would return to us at that time, and teach those children who couldn't become changelings the stories and belief systems of the Christian faith. However, many spirits scorned that faith; Gan Ceann prays to the Dagda, and Ahuizotl worships Mictlantecuhtli." Pitch heard the children whispering to themselves in confusion at the Death God's name, and he found himself irrationally grateful that they never heard of the God who required the eating of human flesh as his worship.

"I don't think I could worship Juokshakka."

"Of course not. You've met her, it would be like believing in the milkman." The children giggled at that, and Pitch found it extremely strange that these six children could _laugh_ at the Bogeyman the way his son did when Jack found a story particularly amusing or when he would play Jack's simple hiding games. "As it is, many spirits are Christian, Seelie and Unseelie."

"Mr. Bogeyman?" asked Claude, his voice small, and Pitch turned to him. "Where exactly are you taking us again?"

"Claude Johnson, that is your name, correct?"

"Yes sir."

"I swore not to kill you nor harm you in any way, do calm yourself, I can smell your fear. It's very specific towards death and the more vicious of my court will find us quicker if you continue to fear such things. You can see my son and you are keeping him far healthier than he has been in the past two hundred years. You are under my protection because of that, all of you are." A smile appeared on his face, one that made the children shrink back and Jack feel at home. "What better thing to protect you than the thing that goes bump in the night?"

And they walked along again, moving sharply out of the way when a small herd of reindeer went racing past them snorting and tossing their heads. Pitch sighed while Jack and the children watched them with wide, amazed eyes. "They came in a sleigh drawn by reindeer?" asked Jack.

"Indeed they did. North's preferred method of transport."

"Wait, Santa?" asked Monty.

"…Yes. That is the name that's popular, I suppose."

"We call him North," said Jack. "I used to call him the man of red and white, back when I only knew him through visions the moon sent me."

"A bit of belief and your memories have done you worlds of good," said Pitch, his voice soft and fond for only a moment before his face turned to stone as a three familiar figures approached. The children ran forward to them, entranced at the meeting of the three. "Someday children will run to you like that, Jack."

"I'd rather run _with_ them, playing games."

"And so you shall. But about that journal you mentioned."

"It's in the Emperor's palace," said Jack, ducking his head. "The scholars were going to help me understand what my visions were, until I ran away and I met them."

"I'm not angry. You recovered and that is all I care about." A shy smile was the only answer, and soon he was called away by Tooth, who was waving him over. With barely a glance at Pitch, Jack flew over.

"Jack," Tooth said as soon as he joined the group. "Biegekegaellies holds you beloved, correct?"

"That's what he said," said Jack.

"Then do you think that you could convince him to lift up the sleigh?" She pointed to where it had crashed against a statue, one of its runners hanging around a man's shoulders and resting atop a woman's head. Jack went to reply, but then his brow furrowed staring up at it. "Jack?" she pressed.

"Sorry. I just…that was my father." The six children and the four spirits looked up at the statue they had passed by a thousand times in their own dealings, looking at the man and the woman holding the girl, the boy with the stick, the dog. "That was my mother, and my sister, Anna. She married Lesley according to Juokshakka. I never liked Lesley, he was too serious. But that was my dog, Falstaff."

"Your _dad_ founded the town?" asked Pippa, astounded. "I did a report on him for school a while ago!"

"You named your dog for Shakespeare's drunkard?" asked Pitch.

"I thought he was funny," defended Jack, still looking up at it.

"Jack, are you going to call the wind or…" prompted Bunny, but Jack was too preoccupied.

Seeing his son was inactive, Pitch blew out a shrill whistle, and from the shadows came a good number of nightmares, which ran to him obediently. "Get the sleigh off of that statue but do not damage the statue," he ordered. The horses all whinnied and turned into formless black sand, racing past the others and supporting the sleigh, lifting it before setting it down heavily on the ground, rushing back to their master for approval. He stroked their noses in approval, their snorting and nuzzling reserved for him and for Jack, now that he wasn't radiating fear like he had last time he had been near them.

They was curious around Jack, for they knew that Jack was the one that was changing Pitch from who they had known him to be, but on the other hand now Pitch was more approving of them than he had been, and ultimately less terrifying to them. When Jack smiled and rubbed at their necks and noses, that was the deciding factor, and they nudged at him in apology for trying to change who he had been, in explanation that it hadn't been just them, that the Fearlings were the real instigators anyway.

And yet, as they circled between Unseelie King and Fearling Prince, the Guardians drew back, for they had battled with these creatures before, while the children got steadily more and more interested, looking at the beautiful mares trotting back and forth. It was Cupcake who reached for them first, so enchanted by horses as she was. When her hand touched it however, the nightmare reared, shifting violently and suddenly into a unicorn made of bright golden sand. It saw the Nightmares and ran away, whinnying in terror to hide behind the children. The Nightmares, on the other hand, looked distressed at the loss of their sister and ran to Pitch, nickering.

"What just happened?" asked Monty.

"The touch of a child who believes can change nightmares into dreams," said North. "And if you touch enough, Sandman will come back to life."

"No," said Jack, going to one of the nightmares and embracing its neck. "No, why do you have to kill them?"

"It isn't killing them, Jack," said Tooth. "It's turning them back into who they were." Jack looked at the beautiful woman before him before turning to his father.

"Is it turning them back?"

"It can be argued so, yes," said Pitch. "My nightmares were to take the place of my army, before Mother Nature...If you are truly that concerned about them, there are millions more."

"Until Sandy is back, we cannot protect your believers," said Tooth, touching Jack's cheek gently. He welcomed her touch as much as he would Pitch's gentle hands on his shoulders and hair, and Pitch watched that with a critical eye. Jack folded his lips and sighed saying,

"I'm alright with it, I guess. Pitch?" The man looked at Jack closely, then at each of the Guardians critically, and then all six children.

"Understand this, all of you. I will allow you to change enough of my Nightmares to resurrect Sandman. However. The only possible reason I am doing this is all to do with my son. He needs these believers, and if I do not help you restore balance the Gods will take him away from me. It is for his sake and his alone. I do not ally myself with you for any other reason."

"You…you are allying with us?" asked North.

"We are fighting for balance, our courts will be fighting for revenge. That is a battle we must fight and win." He turned to the Nightmares and jerked his head, urging them forward. They stepped forward cautiously, and when the children reached up and touched them, they turned into dinosaurs, into manta rays, into ballerinas, into dolphins. Jack took an instinctive step back from the dolphin, instead going to his father and grasping at his cloak. "It's alright Jack, they will not harm you. You can defend yourself now and I am right here." And Jack nodded, though he did not pull away. Suddenly, all of the images turned into streams of sand, which joined together and swirled to create a small man who appeared in a burst of bright yellow light.

"Sandman!" gasped Jamie, and when the man created a bowler hat and tipped it to them, Jamie saluted back. The small man then noticed Pitch and a glare came onto his chubby face. But even Jack didn't notice, for he was watching how the sudden reappearance of this glowing sand that had once scared him so much that he had sobbed and screamed and had to be held and rocked had returned so much power to those he had once feared. North was suddenly strong again, tossing his swords into the air and catching them again with a shout. Bunny suddenly grew and shifted into the warrior Jack had met before, the one that had frightened him with his shouts and accusations. Tooth's wings were suddenly aflutter and she was flying through the air, the children clapping and crying out in wonder.

When the sudden whip of golden sand grasped at his father, Jack cried out, upset at how they were treating him, but could do nothing at Pitch was flung against the statue's base. "Papa!" he cried, running to Pitch. There was but a moment in which he realized that he had called for Pitch the way he had his human father, Thaddeus if the marker was to be believed. "Are you alright?"

"You've never called me Papa before," said Pitch, a hand pressed against his side.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine. Call me what you like. Did you call him that?" he asked, nodding up towards the statue.

"Yes."

"Then call me Papa all you wish." Jack embraced him, ducking his head to press his face in Pitch's shoulder.

"Thank you…Papa."

"As if I could deny you anything."

* * *

Jamie watched the quiet interaction of Jack and the Boogieman, even while he heard the idols he held so dear for all of his life explain to the Sandman that he was not a threat and an ally. But Jack had always seemed so cool (no pun intended), and now he looked like just a kid, cuddled against the Boogieman. Jamie had had plenty of nightmares and had feared letting his hand hang down over the bed enough to know that the Boogieman was far from a cuddly teddy bear, but Jack was so at ease helping him stand and stayed tucked against his side as they returned.

Beside him, Cupcake seemed most interested in the Tooth Fairy, who was fluttering around like a hummingbird. "She's so _pretty,_" she breathed, staring up at her.

Jamie had to agree with that. It wasn't even a matter of opinion, the Tooth Fairy was just gorgeous.

Finally the attention of the spirits returned to them, and the six friends stood at attention once more. "Children, we need to take you away. We can try to send messages to explain, but they may not truly listen," said Tooth Fairy, fluttering in front of them. "But if you don't want to die, you must come with us."

Death. That was an awfully final thing, there was no coming back from it. It was also an awfully frightening thing, and the way the Boogieman looked at them told them that their fear of death was catching his attention. And Santa was gone, probably to get his reindeer, while the Easter Bunny was keeping watch and Sandman was looking at Pitch with a curious and fierce look on his face, softening when he looked at Jack.

"I'll go with you," said Monty, surprising them. Monty was the child who got up early to watch reruns of Reading Rainbow, he wasn't known to be brave. But he was stepping forward and the Tooth Fairy smiled brilliantly at him. The others followed his lead, and by then Santa was back, driving the six reindeer ahead of him with shouts. The children dove out of the way, Jamie watching in awe as the animals stood obediently, waiting to be hitched up by the large man. As he worked, Caleb suddenly called out,

"Fireflies!"

The children looked, and yes fireflies were started to fly around them. "Isn't it too early for fireflies?" asked Pippa, but she too looked amazed.

"Adze," said the Boogieman darkly, before slipping into the shadows and disappearing. The children were chasing for the fireflies, however, but a sudden booming voice made them freeze. The Guardians, so wrapped up with the reindeer looked up to see the fireflies and gasped as well.

_**STAND. DOWN.**_

The Fireflies retreated immediately, but their forms changed, no longer small lights but humanoids with long fangs, hissing at the children.

A group of creatures with long horns and short fangs, all red and dressed in bright colors, appeared, carrying clubs and shrieking enough to make the children cower and climb into the sleigh at Jack's demand. But the boy himself was running towards them. "Jack!" called Jamie, but the boy only stopped to shout at the creatures,

"Stop it! Leave them _alone!_"

The one in the lead, they signaled for the creatures to stop. "My Prince, you don't understand!" it insisted.

"I do! And you need to leave them alone!"

"Supay demons," breathed the Easter Bunny, from where he was securing one of the reindeer. All six were hitched up, and the four Guardians leapt into the sled with the six children.

"Jack!" called Cupcake, her voice desperate as Jack turned and started to run over. As he did, the wind suddenly picked up, lifting him off the ground with a surprised cry and carrying him to land in the midst of the children, crying out as he hit them with elbows and knees. The reindeer started off, aiming to the skies, and lifting them with a series of jolts, even as the things they thought were fireflies tried to catch them and the demons threw their weapons at them.

"Why did they listen to you? The demons? I mean, they stopped and everything," asked Jamie, looking to Jack.

"My father is the King of the Unseelie Court," explained Jack. "Every spirit that is going to attack you is part of that court. If your lights on the globes go out, then they have full power. It's revenge against not having any of it for however long it's been since the War. And since my father is King, I am the Prince and they have to listen to me, at least a little bit."

"They should be listening to you altogether, said the Tooth Fairy. "The Unseelie are many things, but they were always respectful of rank. They know you are their Prince, surely."

"I don't know." Jack may have felt a thousand million times better than before he had believers and memories, but part of him just wanted to go back to the time when he would sleep and wake up to eat and listen to stories and talk to Pitch about what was upsetting him so that he could fix it. He wanted to go back to the rest cure and part of him protested violently, but the rest of him wanted that safety again. Everything was simpler then, anyway.

"Where are we going?" asked Pippa after a moment of silence. "Are we going to the North Pole?" The Guardians exchanged glances.

"Perhaps we should split up," suggested Tooth Fairy. " I could take the girls and—"

"No, they should stick together," said Jack. "Wherever we go, they should stick together."

"North Pole it is then," decided Santa. "Yetis will protect them. You can see your elf friend, Jack."

"Little Guy. He's called Little Guy and he has a wife and three children."

"Yes, that one."

"I don't think Santa likes the elves," whispered Monty. Cupcake nodded.

* * *

When they arrived at the North Pole, they were met by Yetis that led the reindeer into the stables and pushed the sleigh away, and a familiar Yeti that spoke angrily. "Hello, Phil!" greeted Jack, waving. The Yeti spared him a small smile, before saying something more.

"It seems your father beat us here, Jack," said North, before leading them up elevators, through busy rooms that the children marveled at, but they were holding hands the same way as before, with Jack in the middle, and so they could not stay for long, no matter how rooms full of ribbon amazed them, or ice sculptures of fantastical toys they had never seen before intrigued them.

Soon they reached the Globe Room, and could hear angry shouting, but could not hear the words. "He's up there," said Bunnymund. "Jack, d'you want to go ahead?"

"Stay with the Guardians," Jack told the children, giving them a smile before taking the staff from Monty, feeling Biegekegaellies lift him up and carry him up past the dark globe but the six bright lights now at the top of the world, and landed where his father stood, pacing before a blue crystal.

"For the last time, I did _not_ condone the attack on the children! In case it escaped your notice, I have not been to the Forbidden Palace since I left it last, before the court returned!" he was saying, furious.

"Papa!" called Jack, and Pitch turned, apparently taking the new title easily.

"Jack!" he greeted, spreading his arms for his son to run to. Embracing the boy, he whispered, "I worried for you as soon as I saw the Supay. But you held your ground spectacularly, my dear Snowflake. Oh but Jacky Boy we are in some deep trouble you and I. He's weak but soon as more power starts to transfer back to the Seelie he will be unbelievably mad."

"Who?" asked Jack, not bothering to pull away from the comforting embrace even as he noted the six children and the four Guardians approaching. He did not see how they were staring at the crystal, though.

It was Pitch who pulled away, gesturing towards the blue tinted image of a man with anger in his eyes even as his face was serene, fingers pressed together and the hands they were attached to emerging from the sleeves of a set of long robes. Jack grew very still, almost knowing who it was before the five dreaded words escaped Pitch's mouth. "The Man in the Moon."

* * *

**A/N: **Yes, next chapter will have the confrontation I've been rewriting a million times to get right, Jack and Manny. And yes I just reused two monster species so we won't have to run them down beyond quick reminders will we?

**Jack's List of Wars**

Punic Wars: Rome and Carthage battling for possession of modern day Tunisia. That is the war General Hannibal took elephants over the alps for. (Anyone remember Dido's dying oath?) The wars were won in Rome's favor, and they salted Carthage, ruining the soil so now no one can farm in that area, because the ground still has salt in it.

Peloponnesian War: Between Athens and Sparta, it was a war over land. It also went on and on when it could have been ended multiple times, but each side craved victory so much that they dragged it on. This is also the war that the comedic play _The Lysistrata _is based off of-in which the women of Athens and Sparta lock themselves in Athens' treasury and withhold sex until the war ends. The plan works.

War of the Roses: English war fought between the two houses represented by roses (see?) The House of York with the white rose and the House of Lancaster with the red rose. It was a series of sporadic battles, mostly about who got to rule England after the Hundred Years War. Richard III was slain by Henry Tudor, who actually had little to no claim to the throne, and the House of Tudor was set up, with the Tudor Rose, which united the Yorkshire white rose and the Lancaster red rose.

Fun fact: Game of Thrones is blatantly based off of the War of the Roses with the Starks in the north and the _Lannisters_ and all that

Cipactli: The Cipcatli is a monster in the Aztec Creation myth of how the earth was created. She was a monster with "a jaw at every joint" that ate each bit of life the Gods tried to create. Eventually they pulled her apart, even though one of them lost a leg in the process. She ended up creating the universe by being stretched apart.

Gaudete (holiday): Gaudete is the traditional name for the third Sunday in Advent, the one before Christmas. It is symbolized by a pink candle.

Gaudete (Pitch's song): Gaudete is also a traditional carol sung _on_ Gaudete. Pitch only sings the first of four verses, with the chorus. Translated it means: Rejoice, rejoice! Christ is born! Of the Virgin Mary, rejoice! Rejoice, rejoice! Christ is born! Of the Virgin Mary, rejoice! The time of grace has come what we have wished for. Songs of joy let us give back faithfully.

Claude's necklace with the goose charm: It has no real meaning, but it's just my little subtly tribute to my "Grandma Goose". My aunt by marriage's mother, she insists I call her grandma even though we aren't related. But I digress.

Pitch's oath: To swear on the wounds of Christ was a big flipping deal back in the Dark Ages. And seeing as Pitch has more or less been regulated to be under beds, in closets, and in scary basements since then, I don't think he really gets that to sound earnest you say something else. Fun fact: to say Zounds! Is to swear on the wounds of Christ, but in a vulgar way.

Fae as Christian: It's true, if you look at all sorts of superstitions and the practice of changelings, that is what is happening, faeries are Christian. In Arabic mythos, the Jinn are Muslim. Just read 1001 Arabian Nights, they're all bound by the seal of the Prophet and such.

The Dagda: The Dagda is the ultimate ruler of the pantheon in Irish Celtic heritage. He holds a club that can raise the dead with one end and kill nine men with the other. He had a cauldron that was always filled with food so that whoever ate from it would never run out of food, he had two pigs, one always growing and one always roasting, and trees always with fruit.

The name Lesley: Lesley is a name for either boy or girl, but in Jack's time it was only for boys.

Falstaff the drunkard: If you ever read Henry IV part I or Merry Wives of Windsor, that's Jack Falstaff. He's a drunkard who hangs around Prince Hal to share in his glory (more or less) and get the fine wine Hal buys (that's more accurate, actually). In the final battle with Hotspur, Falstaff sticks his sword into Hotspur's corpse once Hal's killed him and claims that he killed Hotspur. Hal lets him.

Adze: the unstoppable vampires from Ewe tradition

Supay: Demons from the Inca tradition

the Crystal: I still hold that it is a scrying crystal but nothing has been serious to communicate in anything beyond charades or the like until this war threatened


	9. Parenthood and the First Attack

**A/N: **So here we are, just one day before I leave for a month of German immersion camp! I'm sorry, but I won't have any access to any computers nor will I be able to do the research necessary for this fic until I get back from camp and possibly even afterwards, because I will be in Japan for roughly two weeks a few days after.

Still, I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

* * *

"Jack Frost," greeted the man, his face turning into a smile, eyes losing only a touch of the anger. "I wish to speak to you."

"No," said Jack, but he didn't step back.

"No?"

"I won't talk to you. You did horrible things to my Papa and you've done horrible things to me too."

"Jack—"

"_No!_" the loudness and abruptness shocked everyone, and even Pitch stepped back, letting his son go on. "Your people killed children!"

"Killed? I have never ordered the murder of children! Unlike some people."

"Contrary to Germanic belief, I don't eat children," said Pitch. Behind him, the six children, still in their pajamas, all sighed in relief.

"And then you also scared me for so long that I was the happiest I've been in a long time when I was under Mount Li and knew you couldn't get to me. I didn't know what those visions were and I lived in terror that you would send another one." Jack wasn't one for pacing and raging like his father, but standing there and telling the scrying image everything in exact terms seemed to be doing the job just fine.

"Are you going to stop him?" asked North quietly as Jack was detailing how the moon's actions had pushed him into depression and hysteria, how Pitch was the only thing that had improved his situation. Pitch snorted, turning to the man beside him.

"Why on earth would I stop him? I have wanted to do what he's doing for centuries," he said, folding his arms and watching proudly as his son continued.

"—and you think it's _alright_ that you sent those visions?!" Jack was demanding.

"I was educating you on the spirits that you should have met and joined!" snapped the Man.

"But I don't want to join them!"

"I _created_ you for that purpose! I brought you back from the _dead!_"

"_Blood of the covenant is thicker than water of the womb!_" shouted Jack, rendering everyone and everything around him silent. "I don't have to do what you want me to do just because you brought me into the world! I don't _want_ to join them! I didn't know they were even _real_ until a few days ago! I just want a place and since everyone says I'm Prince of the Unseelie, then that means that my place is with my Papa and that is all I want! If you try to get me to join them against my will, then I will go underground and you'll never see me again. The Gods told me I had to balance the courts and that I could do it because you made me but I'm Pitch's son. And you always have to do what a god tells you to do."

"Did _Pitch_ tell you that?"

"Aeneas did. Hermes told him to go to Italy, and he had to. Odysseus taught me that too. Athena gave him tricks and he did them. And Brunhilde. Odin told her to protect Siegmund and she did. And Loki, he was told by the Gods to get Thor's hammer back and he came up with a way to do it. Whenever a God tells you to do something, you have to do it. So I have to balance the courts and I don't have to join the Guardians. I understand why you chose me, because I saved my sister and gave my life for hers, but I don't want to or have to join them." Silence fell, the Man staring at Jack as if floundering for something to say. Eventually, North stepped forward, clapping a hand on Jack's shoulder, making the youth stumble and Pitch raise an eyebrow. At least Tooth had looked to him for permission.

"There now, Jack has explained himself and presented his argument," said North. "Jack, go take the children and go explore. You can find your elf friend and—"

"His name is Little Guy!"

"Yes, you can find Little Guy and…we will talk to Manny." Shooing them along, the children followed Jack in awe of what he had done.

"Was everything you said true?" asked Jamie. Jack nodded. "You are so cool."

"Your parents are going to be really scared," he said. "I don't know what the Guardians have planned, but I was thinking about it and we really can't just steal you away."

"My mom's going to really wonder where I am," said Monty, frowning. Cupcake nodded.

* * *

Soon, though, the children were playing with the children of the Yetis and elves, just as Jack had once before he had fully recovered. Little Guy and his wife were sitting on Jack's knees, and were teaching him their language, careful to pitch their voices as low as they could, but it was still very high and nearly out of Jack's ability to hear.

But, his talent of languages won out and soon he was speaking the language that felt like it had only vowel noises in it. He listened to them point and say things, realizing that their children were named something along the lines of Ooaa, Laapo, Too, and Eaa. Little Guy was fond of Jack's name for him, but his wife (who was named Uuoo) insisted on calling him Tao (emphasis on the vowels of course). Still, Jack would call him Little Guy, and the elf proudly showed off that the frost from the first time he touched him when Jack had been hiding under the bed and shared his food with the elves had not melted.

The three were discussing now, the elves having to speak as lowly as possible, but still now Jack was easily communicating. The Emperor would be amazed at his skill, he thought for a moment, before being hit by an unexpected wave of sadness. He _missed_ the Emperor's City. He missed Mei, who had been so kind, he missed the wise scholars, the acrobats, the soldiers who reported each night as to what the humans had been doing, the beautiful gardens, the birds, everything.

"What is wrong?" asked Uuoo.

"Nothing," he replied. "I just…I was somewhere before I came here. I miss it."

"Was it home?" asked Little Guy.

"No. Not home. But I still miss it."

"Jack, come play with us!" called Jamie from where he was on top of a Yeti child's shoulders. Jack grinned and carefully helped Uuoo and Little Guy off of his knees before leaping over to join in their games.

The Yeti children enjoyed throwing snowballs, and with the whole complex of buildings carved from a wall of ice, there was plenty of snow to play with. Jack was throwing a snowball at Ooaa (a very small one of course), when he saw the Guardians and his father enter the room. Slowly, the games came to an end as each noticed them. They had grim expressions on their faces, and that made each child look at each other worriedly.

"What is it?" asked Caleb eventually.

"There is a disturbing number of Tupilaq and tuurngait congregating outside," said Bunny. "Both are deadly ice spirits. They usually just stay in Alaska and northern Canada but never in groups like this. Tizheruk is there too which is especially worrying."

"Tizheruk and the Tupilaq are usually limited to the water, aren't they?" asked Jack.

"Yes, which is why it is so worrying that they seem to be doing fine when they break through the ice from beneath," explained Tooth.

"So do we need to leave?" asked Pippa.

"Leave, fight, or have _him_ talk them down," said Bunny, pointing at Jack.

"Me?" he asked, voice small.

"You are the Unseelie Prince, my son and heir," said Pitch. "They have to listen to you for that reason. The Generals are acting without their king and they do not know where I am. I suppose they think that I am locked in combat or the like. If you present yourself as their superior in court, they will listen to you. Your natural powers of ice will only add to that."

"Plus you managed to talk the Man in the Moon down until he didn't really have anything to say," added Tooth. "Which was quite impressive, really. I've never seen anyone else ever manage something like it."

"If you're done flirting with my son, Tooth Fairy," said Pitch, making her splutter, the children stifle giggles and everyone else stare at her. "Jack, this is the most easily defendable place, especially now. Can you do this?"

"I can try," said Jack slowly. "But if I can't do it, what then?"

"Then we go to Bunny's Warren," said North. "Yetis will fight."

"I wish we didn't have to fight at all." But, Jack still stood, and grasped his staff, following North as he led to a window that opened. "I don't know if I could do this well, but I can try." And then he was gone.

* * *

Tizheruk is frightening to look at. A monster of the water, it had a seven foot tail and head, and impossibly sharp teeth. Its tendency to eat humans made it doubly frightening to anyone of a humanoid shape, and it was with this that the Unseelie had sent it along with the Tuurngait and the Tupilaq. The Tupilaq, however, were crafted of magic and animal skin, bone, and hair. Their whole existence was conjured by one experienced in magic, and their whole goal was to attack and kill whoever they were sent to do. Tuurngait, however, are creatures of the wind, and can either help or hinder. Tuurngait were outside of Biegekegaellies' control, he could not force them or ask them to do anything, they were their own agents, and thus their species were split right through the middle, each allied to the two courts.

But all three species were icy creatures, and thus they were respectful towards their Prince, doubly so than most others would have been, when he landed in front of them.

They looked at each other a long moment, the icy boy and the creatures that only northern cultures knew about. Then finally, Jack opened his mouth and said, "Don't." one of the Tuurngait started to speak but Jack just turned to it and again said, "Don't."

"We are under orders," said a Tupilaq. Jack turned to it and said,

"Well then, I order you not to. Why are you attacking anyway?"

"The king is gone," said Tizheruk, its voice like the screams of those falling out of boats into icy waters, the sound of the last breath rushing as bubbles out of the mouths of a victim. And though that should have sounded terrifying to Jack, it only felt familiar. "The generals are in charge now."

"But everyone's been saying I'm a prince? Doesn't that put me more in charge than the generals?" The giant creature laughed aloud, its laughter just as frightening but familiar to Jack.

"Yes it does."

"Why do they want you to attack, anyway?"

"Those children are keeping us from full power," said a Tuurngait. "If we kill them, Unseelie become dominant on this earth." Jack looked at all of them for a long moment before he said,

"Have any of you ever talked to the gods?" They all nodded. "Well two of them talked to me too. Just yesterday. And…and they talked about balance. A balance between the two courts that would ensure that both sides got all the power they deserved."

"Explain," demanded a Tupliaq.

* * *

"Santa? Is Jack going to be alright?" North turned at the voice to see the children there, all looking up at him with worry.

"Jack is their Prince, they have to listen to him," he said, smiling at them.

"But when they're done listening. What then?" asked the girl, Pippa, he remembered, safely on the Nice List and never even close to switching to Naughty.

"I cannot say. But Pitch will protect him if goes badly." He nodded to where the Bogeyman was staring out into the snows, pacing but keeping his eyes focused. "And we will protect you."

"Santa…" started Claude (occasionally close to naughty list, but never crossed the line). "What about our parents? They're going to wonder where we are."

"Yeah," agreed his twin, Caleb (just the same as his brother, very close to but never naughty). The others nodded and North looked between them.

It was his duty to protect children, for the children of the world were the only ones left who believed in the Seelie, the only ones who had the sort of mindset to do so. North was very aware that this was one of the first conversations he had had with children since his transformation from human to Seelie. He could not mess this one up.

And then an idea came to him. If the belief of these six children was enough to let the Seelie Court feel even the slightest bit of power again, the belief of an adult…

"Simple," he said. "We bring your parents here." The children all grinned and started talking amongst themselves, but turned back when Bunny turned and demanded,

"_What._ Adults? North, you know adults don't believe in us! How do you know they won't freeze to death because they can't perceive this place?"

"Because Pole was built by hand, not by magic."

"North," ventured Tooth. "Don't you think it could be a _little _dangerous? I mean, you're human, but the rest of us…"

"If humans finding out about us was so dangerous, why did we invite any to our revels?"

"That wasn't us, mate, and you know it!" said Bunny.

As the children watched them debate, they missed Sandy going to stand by Pitch, and the silent conversation they held with images made of black and golden sands wrought into shapes, they missed when Sandy touched Pitch's hand when he made to go out to where Jack was, they missed the noise Pitch made when the spirits converged around Jack. It was an ugly noise, something between a gasp and a choke, something aborting in his throat in fear.

But no one missed when Pitch suddenly barreled past them shouting, "_Move!_" going to the window where Jack was returning.

As soon as Jack entered, he was swept into hug by his father, both holding the other just as tightly, Jack's staff clattering to the floor. "You will never have to do anything like that," Pitch was saying. "I will make certain that you are never again the only hope."

"I liked being important," Jack said, his voice small. "But it was also scary."

"Never again."

"What happened?" asked Tooth, prompting them to let go.

"None of them really wanted to fight," said Jack. "The Tuurngait were telling me about how they used to be known as helping spirits but now are called demons and they don't like that and want to help us. The Tupilaq weren't even recently created, they were just conscripted into killing the children but I ordered them not to and they obeyed."

"And Tizheruk?"

Jack shrugged. "It just wanted to go home. So I told it to and it swam away."

"Tizheruk found itself accidentally allied to my court," said Pitch. "Lines were drawn but it never took a side."

The children watched with confusion, but turned to North when he turned to an elf and said, "Jingle, prepare rooms."

"_My name is Jee,_" the elf in question said, his voice the most gentlest of reminders, he was a grandfather of an elf too, very old and very used to it.

"His name is Jee," offered Jack. Everyone turned to him once more.

"Then, Jee, prepare rooms. We're going to have company," said North, not looking away from Jack.

"_Yes sir. Thank you Jack, it will be nice having you to translate._" And then the elf was gone, running down the halls.

"Since when do you speak elf?" asked Bunny.

"Since a few hours ago," said Jack. "It's not a hard language, their voices are just very high."

"Can you teach me?" asked Jamie.

"Me too!" said Monty. Jack nodded with a smile, as all the other children asked to learn.

"I still think adults are a bad idea," said Bunny. "Besides, how will we get them here, we can't touch them."

"There are spells you can cast," said Pitch. "Surely you have a grimoire somewhere among these books."

"Exactly," said North. Their alliance was still a shaky, but he would take any supporter.

* * *

After having flipped through many of the heavy grimoires North kept in a locked bookshelf, it turned out that the grimoire they needed was being used to hold up an uneven chair, and when Pitch spluttered angrily, North merely said, "I memorized the spells I needed long ago."

"_Still!_ I would have killed for that one and you're using it like humans use telephone books!" the Bogeyman said, following the man. "That is nearly as valuable as the Black Pullet!"

"But is not Black Pullet. Your court has Black Pullet. Seelie do not need it."

"_Exactly!_"

The Children were off playing again, with Jack trying to teach them the language of the elves and Pitch was grateful for it. The Unseelie King would never allow his precious son to touch a grimoire for fear of what he would conjure up. Some things he might try were good, but there was always the fear that he might try the wrong thing and do something even Pitch could not undo.

The Guardians were more relieved about the children being gone. Jack was faerie even if he had once been human, and there was less danger for him because of it from the grimoire written by a fae.

"Aha! Here is spell!"

"You aren't even listening to me. He's not listening to me," Pitch was muttering. Tooth smothered her giggles with some difficulty, and Bunny rolled his eyes before hopping up towards North.

"Will we need to do it more than once?" he asked.

"No, I don't think so," said North. "Just the one time." And the adults set about setting up the spell as the textbook of magic dictated.

* * *

Across the workshop, the children weren't playing as the adults thought. They were gathered in a circle, talking about magic and their understandings of it. Jack was the most well-versed, but even he knew it only in theory. Still, it made for stimulating conversation for all of them.

"If a grownup says 'I don't believe in fairies' then one dies!" Cupcake was telling them all. "But if enough people say 'I do believe in fairies' then they can come back to life!"

"That's from Peter Pan!" said Caleb. "That's not real!"

"You thought the Easter Bunny wasn't real too for a bit," pointed out Jamie. "How do you know Peter Pan isn't true?"

"Who's Peter Pan?" asked Jack.

"He's a boy who never grows up!" said Monty, face bright with his favorite story. "He lives in Never Neverland with the Lost Boys and Tinkerbell the fairy and he can fly _and_ he's best friends with the mermaids and the Indians and he fights Captain Hook the Pirate!"

"And once," said Cupcake, taking up the story, "he brought Wendy, Michael, and John to Neverland too, and they all lived there for a while, and Wendy was mother to all the Lost Boys! But then Captain Hook captured them and nearly killed Tinkerbell too! But Peter stopped him and took over the ship, sailing them home through the sky! Because Tinkerbell covered it with fairy dust so it could fly!" Jack looked absolutely entranced with the story. "I think it's a book, but I've only ever seen the movies."

"Pitch never tells me stories like that," said Jack.

"But the stories you know are so cool!" said Jamie.

"None of my stories ever have any magic in them."

"But your dad knows magic, he was talking about spells," said Pippa. Jack shrugged.

"He never told me about the war either because he thought it would upset me so I guess it could be something like that."

"How do you learn magic, anyway?" asked Claude.

"You go to school, duh!" said Jamie. "Haven't you read Harry Potter?"

"But not everyone can go to Hogwarts!"

"There are other schools!" said Pippa as if it was the most obvious thing. And so it went, the children talking and laughing about stories about magic, telling Jack the stories of Harry Potter and of the magical country of Narnia, happy to know something that Jack didn't know.

* * *

Anne Bennett had been trying to comfort Fred and Ella Newark about the loss of their beloved daughter Pippa when it felt like something hit her hard in the back of the head. Vaguely, as she fell unconscious she thought, "Well damn." It was a strange thought considering, yes, but she had just been struck with something and excuses can be made in such situations.

It had been an unexpected tragedy; Jamie, Pippa, Claude and Caleb, Katherine, and Montgomery had all been kidnapped in the night, the only connection that their windows were all open. Their parents had all rushed straight to the police in varying states of distress and despair, and all sobbed out the story to the officer. They had mounted a full search and had put a bulletin about it on local news.

Fred and Ella had come over to the Bennett home and had turned on the TV to see the anchor announce, "…the only connection to the kidnappings as far as can be told is open windows in the children's rooms. If you have any information on the disappearance of these six children, please report it to the Burgess Police as soon as possible." And that had been what had set Fred to tears, Ella not far behind and Anne trying to calm Sophie when she looked scared at seeing adults cry.

But when Anne opened her eyes, it was to see a wooden ceiling above her, sturdy and reminding her of the cabin that she used to visit in the summer with her parents and brother. Keeping still, she listened carefully for anyone around, and heard no one. She was not restrained either, and thus sat up.

It was a room empty for all save a few bookshelves of heavy leather bound books, a fireplace with a cheerful red fire, and—_holy hell._

Beside her lay Fred Newark, still out cold, with Ella draped across him. John and Abigail Weber, Katherine's parents, were a ways away, laying side by side. Duncan Johnson was waking up himself, and Elisabeth and Percy Hawthorne were beside him.

"Duncan!" she hissed, making him turn.

"Anne," he whispered, voice still loud in the empty room. "Anne, what happened?"

"I was watching the news with Fred and Ella and then I felt like something hit me in the head. Do you think we…"

"I've never seen this place before in my life, we could have been kidnapped yes." Anne let out a frightened moan. This was the sort of thing that happened to other people! Duncan looked just as scared though, so at least she wasn't alone.

"Should-should we wake the others up?" Duncan shrugged. "Maybe we can all get out of here."

"It's worth a shot." And he leaned over towards Elisabeth and Percy, reaching to shake them awake. Anne did the same for Ella, rousing her in a matter of moments.

"Anne?" Ella murmured, blinking open her eyes. "What…" And she trailed off, looking around with a whine of terror escaping her lips.

"Ella, Ella, we need to stay calm. Wake up your husband, I'll try to wake up John and Abigail," said Anne, even as her voice shook. Ella looked at her and nodded, shaking her husband awake as Anne moved towards the Webers. Percy was hyperventilating across the room, with Elisabeth and Duncan both trying to calm him down, but it seemed to be a losing battle and Anne's hands were shaking as she reached to wake Abigail.

Finally they were all awake and Percy was wheezing against his wife, trying to get oxygen back into his system. They had gathered around and as Anne started to cry with fear, John was talking. John, the ex-police officer, John who would know what to do. "We need to keep calm and figure out where we are and why we're here. We should not do anything rash, it might end up worse for us."

"We've been kidnapped same as our children I know it," moaned Anne, wiping at her face. "And I don't know what's happened to Sophie either and—"

"Anne, you need to calm down," said Elisabeth. "We all have to stay calm."

"We've been knocked out, taken to a strange place, probably by the same person who kidnapped our children, and we have to stay _calm?!_" demanded Percy.

"Shhh!" they all hushed.

"We need to not let them know we're awake," said John. "At least for the moment."

But even then, the door opened. They faced it with growing terror, certain that their kidnapper was going to be there, but instead, in came Katherine, Jamie, Pippa, Claude and Caleb, and Montgomery, all grinning madly, and rushing to them.

"_Jamie!"_ gasped Anne, hugging her son tightly and beginning to cry. "I was so worried," she said, clutching him tight. "I woke up to find your bed empty and I could only imagine the worst things happening to you and—_oh Jamie!_"

"Cupcake, Cupcake, oh Katherine, sweetheart!"

"Montgomery, oh my Monty! We thought you were dead! When we get home we're going to lock your window and _darling_ you're alright!"

"Claude, Caleb, you're safe! You're both safe, oh my boys! My beautiful, wonderful boys!"

"Pippa! Pips Pippy Langstrumpf Pippip _oh Pippa._ Oh _doodlebug you're safe._"

Curiously, none of the children seemed to be as overwhelmed and frightened as their parents. But the adults weren't in much state to note that, each crying tears of joy as they held their children tight, unwilling to let go.

"Dad, you'll never believe," Monty was saying, but Elisabeth and Percy weren't listening, merely holding their son between them.

"Mom, mom, you have to hear!"

"Papa, guess what."

"Mom, you'll never guess!"

"Dad, you've got to listen to this!"

"Dad dad dad dad dad dad…" and so it went on, each trying to make their parents listen, but not one hearing them.

"Mom!" said Jamie, eventually pulling away from Anne's embrace. "Mom, guess where we are."

"We're obviously in the hold of the person who kidnapped you, Jamie, and don't you worry we're going to get you out of here as soon as possible. Everything will be okay."

"I wasn't kidnapped!"

"Jamie I don't know what trauma you've gone through to make you think that—"

"_Mom,_ we're at the North Pole, Santa Claus doesn't kidnap anyone!"

And that stopped her short. Her son thought they were at the North Pole. He thought that Santa Claus was here. She couldn't say anything to that, just staring with worry and fear at her son, remembering the crime dramas she would watch and hallucinatory drugs. Eventually she said slowly, "Jamie, did anyone give you anything to eat?"

"Just Phil. He brought all of us breakfast and then he brought us cookies while we were waiting for you to get here! Jack's dad came to tell us you were here and we came right away."

"Oh _Jamie…_"

"No! It's alright! Because Jack scared away the Tizheruk and the Tupi…the Tupisomethings. Well, he said he just told them to go home and the turnsomethings are going to help us now so we're not in danger right now anyway. The Tooth Fairy says that this is the most easily defendable place too." Anne fell silent again, staring at her son and hearing similar conversations happening around her.

"You have to believe me!" Katherine was saying. "Come on, I'll show you!" and she grabbed at John's hand.

"Katherine, we need to stay here," John was saying.

"You just don't want to believe it! But it's true! The Boogieman said that you could be brought by magic because you don't believe in him or Santa or the Tooth Fairy, or the Easter Bunny or the Sandman. And then Santa said that he had magic books that he could look in and Jack Frost went to go play with us but he didn't know the story of Peter Pan or Narnia so we had to tell him and then the Boogieman came and told us that you were here so we came! But you have to see!"

"Cupcake's right," said Pippa. "Jack Frost came and got us away because we're the only ones left in the whole world who believe in the Guardians and the Boogieman's kingdom wanted to kill us. He took us away to keep us safe and Santa took us away. But there were demons and these vampires that looked like fireflies and the Boogieman swore to us that he wouldn't hurt us. And the Man in the Moon—"

"That's enough!" said Duncan. "Children, none of that can be real! There is no Jack Frost, there is no Santa Claus, there is no Tooth Fairy, there is no Easter Bunny, there is no Sandman, there is no Man in the Moon, and there is no Boogieman!"

"There _are!_" said Claude.

"And there are Yetis and Elves and turnsomethings and a monster called the Tizheruk and Tupliaqs and _why won't you listen to us?_" demanded Montgomery, the loudest they had ever heard him shout. "You believed me when I told you I saw a Goddess."

"We thought you were playing pretend," said Elisabeth.

"If you aren't going to believe us, then I'm not going to talk to you," said Pippa. "I'm going to go test some of Santa's toys." And she left the room.

"Pippa Newark!" snapped Fred, following after her, Ella behind him. The other children left too, running after Pippa.

"James Matthew Bennet!"

"Claude! Caleb!"

"Katherine!"

"Montgomery Alexander Hawthorne!"

* * *

"They really think they've been kidnapped," said Toothiana, holding the still sleeping Sophie Bennett and watching them run into one of the hallways outside the room.

"Humans have changed," said North.

"There's no more use for magic in their world," sighed Pitch. "No one is hanged for being a witch, but stories of us and our deeds are only for children, disregarded by anyone who considers themselves mature."

"The children will convince them though, right?" asked Toothiana.

"Who knows?" sighed Bunny. "I told you this was a bad idea."

"We could not let children's parents worry," insisted North. Pitch rolled his eyes and slipped through a shadow, appearing beside his son sitting atop the globe, looking at the busy main workshop. Jack liked watching the yetis work, and the little elf he called Little Guy was sitting on his knee, chattering away in a voice that Pitch could barely hear as he listened for it.

"Did their parents arrive safe?" asked Jack suddenly, looking up at his father.

"Yes. But they don't believe that they're at the Pole. Do you remember when you were first born from the lake? Do you remember what people were like back then?"

"Of course, Papa."

Pitch smiled at his new title, but straightened his face as he said, "Adults these days are not the same at all. They lose their belief in magic early in life compared to then, and are entirely dependent on science. They think that they have been kidnapped."

"But they weren't."

"They woke up to find their children missing. They were unbelievably scared for them, thinking they had been kidnapped. And when we brought them here by magic…" he sighed. "Hopefully those children will convince them otherwise. Adult belief is powerful, when it exists." They fell to silence, watching the yetis work on fantastical toys, Little Guy started to speak again, pointing to things as he did.

"Montgomery Hawthorne!" shouted a man's voice, and the father and son turned to look. Monty was indeed coming into the room, up by where the fire trucks and robots were being built, and was followed by two adults, presumably his parents. They stopped short in the doorway, staring up at the massive room, the globe, the toys everywhere, and the flying saucers and jellyfish spinning through the air.

"We told you we're at the North Pole!" Monty was saying. The globe had turned enough that when he looked up, he could see the two atop it and waved. "Hi Jack! Hi Mr. Boogieman!" Jack waved back, but Pitch did not. "Come on, you have to see!" and now Monty was dragging his parents along.

* * *

Cupcake was proudly pointing out the window, a vast icy landscape that stretched as far as they could see. "See? North Pole!" she said.

"That's not possible," breathed her mother. "There is no way…"

"But it's true!"

"How could this be possible?" asked her father.

"Santa was talking about how he built this place by hand, which is why you can see it. If he built it with magic you wouldn't be able to get inside. That's why the Easter Bunny was worried about you freezing."

"Cupcake, sweetheart…" started her mother.

"No, I know what's happening. I'm not stupid. There's a war and there are monsters that want to kill me. But the Guardians and the Boogieman are keeping me safe because I believe in them and I believe in Jack Frost. Jack's the only reason the Boogieman is keeping us safe, because Jack's his son and he was sick and us believing in him is keeping him healthy."

"That is quite the story, dear."

"It's true." It was her earnestness that made her parents look at each other uncertainly. They knew her to be entirely honest all the time, but this seemed too farfetched. But they _were_ in a large wooden building in the center of an expanse of ice…

Across the building, Pippa was pointing at the tapestry above the fireplace by the globe, the tapestry that showed Santa becoming friends with the yetis. "Look! That's Santa, those are the yetis that build the toys. The elves don't, but they do a whole lot of other things. Santa built this place by hand, he didn't use any magic and that's why you can see it. There are yetis everywhere and they're building toys right now. And the globe!" she pointed and her parents turned. "Sitting on top of Russia on that globe is Jack Frost and his dad, the Boogieman. They're looking at you right now."

"Oh Lordy…" breathed her mother suddenly.

"Ella?" asked her father. "Ella, what's wrong?"

"There's a boy up there. He's got a blue tailcoat on. He's got white hair. He's only a boy." Pippa grinned.

"Jack! Jack, my mom can see you!" she called.

"I can feel it!" Jack called back. Ella's hand went to her heart. "Papa, papa, do you feel it? It's _amazing!_ It's like when the children started to believe in me but _more!_" and he laughed aloud, leaping off of the globe and flying down towards them, embracing Pippa tightly and then taking Ella Newark's hand, shaking it. "You're the seventh person in the whole world to believe in me and the first grownup and thank you!"

"You're only a child…" she whispered. But he only grinned at her before suddenly turning and saying,

"Sorry, Papa." And letting her hand go.

"Papa?"

"My Papa. Pitch Black, the Bogeyman. He's right here. Can't you see him?"

"Fred, Fred, you need to move he's right in front of you you're about to walk through him, oh _doodlebug_ you were right!"

John and Abigail Weber both let out a scream when the first yeti passed them, but Cupcake grinned. Monty picked up an elf who waved at his parents, Percy grasping tightly to Elisabeth's hand. Anne gasped at seeing her daughter appearing from nowhere, but when she looked up, a beautiful woman with feathers and wings like a hummingbird was there. Duncan stared at the large rabbit in front of him, jaw slack and eyes wide.

"I think we should go to the Globe Room," said Toothiana gently as Anne held Sophie tightly to herself. "Everything will be explained there. There is much to talk about."

* * *

It was North who spoke to them, the leader of the Seelie Seconds on earth, Pitch stood behind his son, hands firmly on the boy's shoulders. The Unseelie King said nothing, did not move, merely held Jack and did not let him go. To Jack, it kept him still from this unbelievable power, to Pitch, it was an anchor that held him steady in a storm of _something_ rushing through him, and to the parents, it was something normal in so much rocking their world.

"Monsters want our children _dead?_" asked Anne, staring at North.

"Yes. But we will protect them, as well as you. You are targets now," said Toothiana. "Besides, they will listen to Pitch and Jack. They have to."

"Then why don't they just go and make them stop?" asked Duncan.

"It's more complicated than that," said Pitch. "The Unseelie Court has been without any scrap of power for a very, very long time. They are going to defend that as best they can and if that means insisting that we are both unfit to lead they will do it. Think of it like your presidency. You can impeach your president if you think him unfit, and my generals will declare something along the same lines and sever both us from the chain of command."

"Generals. Great, an army is coming after us," said Abigail, her voice flat but not from acceptance of the fact, rather from the fear and suspension of disbelief she was currently experiencing.

"But you have an army protecting you," said Tooth. "Besides, some of the most deadly spirits won't come up here. The Adze for instance, and Gan Ceann won't come here for the gold."

"I," declared Fred, "am going to need a drink and a long night's sleep. Then I will try and understand all of this. It's confusing and part of me still can't believe this is happening at all. Boogieman, you stay away from me while I'm asleep."

"Trust me, I would not disturb your dreams so long as Sandman is here," said the man. The little man of sand grinned and folded his arms triumphantly. Of all the humans, not one wanted to know what the Sandman could do to intimidate the Boogieman like that.

"Right. Santa Claus, show me to your eggnog and then to bed, please."

* * *

**A/N: **for those of you wondering, the parents will have little weight on the plot of this story, but let's look at this from a logical standpoint. Six children cannot vanish on the same night and have anything short of an intensive investigation mounted. Thus, having the parents brought in.

Now, this chapter has less notes that need to be given, but let's get going on them, shall we?

Germanic belief of the Boogieman eating children: _Der Schwarze Mann_ (The Black Man) is the name for the Boogieman in German, and given countries with Germanic root, the myth there is prevalent and does heavily feature him eating misbehaving children or children who don't go the bed on time.

Brunhilde: This is taken from the Opera "Die Walkure" and not Norse myth, but still the point remains. Brunhilde is a Valkyrie, a beautiful warrior woman who takes the bravest of warriors to Valhalla along with her sisters Gerhilde, Ortlinde, Waltraute, Schwertleite, Helmwige, Siegrune, Grimgerde, and Rossweisse. In Die Walkure, Wotan's demigod son Siegmund is to fight his twin sister Sieglinde's husband Hunding for her hand in marriage. Wotan tells Brunhilde to protect Siegmund and to keep him alive. Fricka, Wotan's wife, then comes to lecture him for not acknowledging the power of the marriage contract and Wotan reluctantly agrees. Brunhilde, however, simply follows the first orders.

Loki getting Thor's hammer back: If you have not heard the story, look it up for it is utterly _hilarious._ Thor cross dresses and nearly marries a Frost Giant to get his hammer back.

Tupilaq: In Kalaallit (Greenland Inuit culture) the Tupilaq is an avenging monster summoned by someone experienced in magic. They were usually formed from animal skin, teeth, and/or hair, and would kill whoever they were set to so to. However, if that person had more powerful magic, then the Tupilaq could be sent directly back to kill their maker.

Tuurngait: Literally meaning "helping spirit", the tuurngait appear in Inuit tradition, as spirits of benevolent or malevolent nature. They could either help a hunt and heal the sick, or they could break tools and possess people, attacking people if someone caught them and told them too. With Christianization, the term tuurngait has come to mean "demon" which only describes half the species

The Tizheruk: The Tiheruk is a creature that lives off of Key Island in Alaska, said to snatch and eat people off piers without anyone noting it's coming, going, or presence.

Grimoire: A grimoire is a textbook of magic. Most famous grimoires were written in the 18th century or earlier, but all of them claimed to hold knowledge from the time of King Solomon and before. Typically they include diagrams of arrays and the magic words. Some hold spells to raise the dead or summon demons, such as the Simon Necronomicon (including spells that require the sacrifice of eleven men), while other grimoires have spells to ease pain in childbirth and cure minor ailments, such as The Galdrabók.

The Black Pullet: A grimoire believed to be written in the 18th century. It includes an array to summon your true love, and a spell to create "The Black Pullet", a chicken that lays golden eggs. The book claims that whoever can master the magic within will become the owner of vast wealth.

Fred Newark's request for eggnog: Eggnog is usually alcoholic. What you buy from the store is not, but typically brandy, rum, whiskey, bourbon, or vodka is added to it. This can make eggnog highly alcoholic depending, as brandy is usually 35-60% alcohol, Rum and Whiskey both must be _at least_ 50% to qualify, bourbon tends to be around 45%, and vodka is also 40% and can only be called European Vodka if it has 37.5% alcohol in it


End file.
